


Fire Down Below

by AwatereJones



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Alt Verse, Drama, Fire Fighter, M/M, No Torchwood Aliens, Romance, Smut, Suspence, Thriller
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-07-15 17:01:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 30,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16067453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwatereJones/pseuds/AwatereJones
Summary: So ... Jack is a fire fighter in a small town where Ianto is the local lifeline/grief councillor/part-time deputy with local police/Tactical Unit Member/all around sweetie and the two of them meet in the flame .. gods and how it burns. But ... can they survive the ashes choking their words as they attempt to find a spark together? Gods...that was soooo mills and boons Eh Crumbly?





	1. opening with a bang

Adrenaline pumped through Jack's body. The glow of a fully invested fire at the police precinct's Lifeline Centre was obvious over downtown Holywell a small town in the Flintshire district of Wales; the blaze well past being contained.

Turning in a rough one-eighty, Jack assessed the exposure factor, listening as the lieutenant issued orders. The precinct was part of an older area of town. A jumble of empty gift shops, a couple of grocery stores, and the mayor's building. Luckily, the precinct itself—a large two story building—was separated from the other structures with fifty feet to spare. The only buildings in danger of the fire spreading to them were first on the list to be hosed down. With well-oiled teamwork, the volunteer fire fighters stood next to the full-timers and began their work.

"Do we have anyone inside?" Chief Lethgren asked the gathered crowd. Jack's boss commanded respect. He was a lifer fire fighter, and obviously, people listened to him.

Jack recognized a couple of people there but had no idea who might be left in the building.

A man fell out of the fire-ringed main door and onto his knees, dishevelled and coughing.

Jack was there in an instant, wrestling the guy away from danger and guiding him toward the paramedics who had arrived a few seconds after the engine.

"Ianto…" A coughing fit overtook the man. "Inside," he finished when he could catch his breath. He was pointing back the way he'd come.

Jack stiffened. Was someone still inside? He focused on the chaos around him; on the shouting.

"Ianto's still in there," someone yelled. A tall man was being held back by a group of onlookers as he struggled to get free, looking around him in horror, like he couldn't believe this Ianto guy was still inside.

Jack didn't even think before crossing to the struggling man.

"Where?" he snapped.

The guy blinked but didn't falter. "Straight in. To the back and left rear. The Safe Room. He went in to get Duncan."

"That's Duncan?" Jack asked, pointing at the old man who'd just walked out of the fire.

"Yes."

"Okay. Going in," Jack confirmed into his mic.

Chief Lethgren spun on his heel at the words to face Jack, his expression one of "what the fuck" coupled with resignation. With a quick nod and no thought other than focusing on the job, Jack ensured his face mask was secure and ran straight into the red and orange, through the only suitable ingress—a space formed by an iron beam holding up the remains of the ceiling in what he assumed was the reception area.

The flames reached for Jack as he forced his way into a wide corridor. Fire licked the ceilings and walls. This had been fast—material in the walls and ceilings had fed the monster, and piles of folders and paperwork had provided more fuel.

Straight along the corridor. His heavy boots weighed him down. Focus kicked him into high gear. He breathed heavily with a mix of fear and excitement that fed his veins and arteries—the normal-use sixty-minute SCBA was going to be empty in a third of that time. Didn't matter, because the building was disintegrating around him in great big flaming chunks of hell.

Fire, that fucking mistress of his, was a killer, and he had every respect for her power. He reached a T-junction and took a left. The air thickened with smoke, and he prayed he wasn't too late. Anyone trapped in this sort of environment would be overcome and close to being out of it. He needed to find out where the man was.

Finally, through the smoke and sparking flames, Jack saw him trapped under a broken table. Jack scrambled to him, dropping to his knees and heaved at the table without success. The guy was a suicide prevention worker, dressed in a suit and tie and semiconscious.

It looked like the table had been moved by the unseen force of an explosion and had pinned him to the wall by his arm and chest.

"Help me!" the man shouted, although the words were slurred, and his eyes were slits against the smoke. Jack wished unconsciousness could subdue the man's fear.

Using the axe in his hand as a lever, Jack forced it against the table where it was embedded in the wall. He turned his back against falling debris and sheltered the trapped guy as much as he could as the entire ceiling descended a few feet with a sickening noise. Glancing back the way he'd come, he saw their way out was becoming blocked. More disturbing was the dark, black smoke that collected at high points. That wasn't good—in any way. The heat was intense and the dense, superheated cloud of fuel too rich to ignite. It was only a matter of time before flashover, and then it was game over for him and the man.

Pushing and pulling as hard as he could, Jack finally had enough leverage to allow the man to slide down the wall into a heap on the floor. Not stopping for anything, he scooped the heavy man up and over his shoulder and, with staggering steps, turned to face his nemesis. His muscles strained with the weight, heat, and lack of breath, and he went with his gut instinct. They needed out, and this was a dead end. They only had one option—to go back the way they'd come.

There was no freaking finesse in this plan. Training kicked in, and Jack did the only thing he knew would work. He ran. Stumbling through debris and wincing as fire flicked at him, he forced his way through the ruins of fallen ceiling and was back in the main corridor. A dreadful crash behind them left him very aware the building was disintegrating around him.

The doorway was lit up like a hoop of fire he had to leap through, and with the last push of energy, he was through the entrance and out onto the street.

Hands were there helping him, relieving him of his burden, and he could only watch as the whole building imploded and a huge explosion of dust and debris rose into the night.

There was screaming and shouting, but in Jack's head, there was only peace. He had done his job.


	2. whoa

The paramedics insisted on checking him out and pulled him over to their rig with a determination Jack couldn't fight.

The man was there. Ready for transport to the hospital, an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth. His eyes were open, and for a second Jack looked into the clearest sky blue gaze, and his breath hitched. He hadn't really looked at the guy he was rescuing. Yeah, he'd cursed that the man was over six foot and near to dying in there, but the eyes and strong features visible under the mask and the firm lips and jaw—he'd definitely missed those.

The man lifted the mask with shaky fingers.

"I like fire fighters," he whispered and coughed.

"Sorry?" Jack leaned in to hear him over the noise and chaos outside the rig.

"Fire fighters… I can never find a gay one."

 _Well, I like a man in a suit_ , Jack thought.

He'd had proposals of marriage before from grateful women he'd rescued, but of course, he was way too professional, and too gay, to take them up on their offers.

Was this man coming on to him?

The guy was clearly delirious or oxygen-deprived or something. Jack was used to this kind of reaction, and he generally played along. The people he rescued being very thankful was a given, and Jack always took their comments in good humour, as did any fire fighter in his position.

"Your bodies are fiiiine," the patient was slurring. His expression was less focused and tending more toward unconsciousness. "And your hoses. Never find a gay one, though."

Then he started mumbling and suddenly closed his eyes.

Jack moved swiftly out of the way and found himself watching as the rig moved off with the man inside—to Holywell Community Hospital, he guessed.

A gay man had come on to him, and then slumped into unconsciousness. They'd meet again—this was a small town—but the chances that the man, Ianto, would recall anything of what had just happened were slim.

_Typical._

Jack resolved to go and visit the guy in the hospital; only to check and see if everything was okay. That was all. Nothing to do with the whole men-in-suits thing. Or the fact that the _gay_ man had the palest blue eyes against the bloodshot red.

"Look lively, Jack," Chief Lethgren instructed.

It was a long time until the all clear. Even longer back to his small rented house and to the shower. He'd fit in a visit before work tomorrow, which, according to the clock on the microwave, was less than three hours away. The downside of volunteering was showing up at work, as usual, the next day. He knew his new employer would allow him some leeway, but it was only his second day working for the mayor of Holywell, and he hoped to hell the newness of the position would keep his feet moving and his brain alert. Otherwise, he was fucked.

He didn't remember falling asleep, but a call woke him from dreams and he scrambled for the phone after a moment's disorientation. The screen showed seven a.m.

Yawning widely, he answered.

"Jack Harkness," he said, unable to hide the exhaustion in his voice

"We need you at the station and then on to the scene," Chief Lethgren said. His captain's voice was tense, and Jack woke up pretty quickly. "Also, best bring your big-city moves as well. The initial walkthrough shows evidence the fire was started deliberately; could do with your take on this before I send the report to get an investigative team out here."

"Ten minutes, sir," Jack said.

"Quick as you can." Lethgren sounded pissed. "In Holywell, people don't set fires, Jack. Fires happen by accident. Fat fryers, electrics, camp fires and the like. Fires don't start because some idiot decides they want to see something burn. This isn't the city, you know."

Jack agreed. In the city, deliberately set fires occurred on a daily basis. Things were different in Holywell.

"I'm leaving as soon as I can," Jack said and hung up. He was already out of bed and into the bathroom. Another thing about living two minutes from the station was that he could actually fit in another shower without being horrendously late. He'd showered when he got home, but he still smelled smoke in his nostrils, and he needed that added shot of cold to his system.

Showered but not shaved, he was dressed and out of the door in five and at the station in another two.

Lethgren looked exhausted, like he'd been up all night, and was hunched over fragments of something on the main desk. Jack appraised it quickly. He didn't have to be an expert to see what was there. Remnants of a glass bottle, melted and nearly destroyed, and next to it a brand-new bottle filled with liquid and with a rag sticking out of the end.

"Found this at the scene and this out the back. Clearly one did the damage and the second wasn't needed."

Jack's gut clenched. This kind of fire-starter device was child's play. Gas in the bottle, rag in the end, light the rag and throw. The glass broke, the gas spread, and the flames dispersed over a large area.

"Deliberate," Jack said. He didn't need to say it, but Lethgren was looking at him expectantly, evidently waiting for Jack's initial reaction. "But I'd need to see the burn patterns to be sure."

They made their way over to what was left of the building.

The meeting was far more interesting than Jack had expected. He'd thought he'd left arson back in the city, imagined that Holywell would be a whole different kettle of fish. But no. The forensics, backed up by the fire pattern and spread, could only mean that the fire had been started deliberately using the gas-and-jar method.

He and Lethgren were called to a meeting with Chief of Police Andrew Davidson and the mayor. It felt weird to have moved from a situation in which he was learning to support the mayor to one in which he was suddenly the experienced one.

"Did you manage to get any fingerprints from the glass?" Jack asked the chief of police.

Davidson shook his head. "Nothing that was usable. Whoever it was, took great pains to keep everything clean. But this is what I don't understand. Why wipe prints and put an end to the forensic trail that way, then leave a fully set-up cocktail ready to throw at the scene?"

"Maybe whoever it was expected to need to use two," Lethgren pointed out. "Maybe they didn't think the place was going to go up so quickly. The explosion burned up the grass outside the building and came close to where we think the perp was standing—maybe he or she just got scared and ran."

Chief Lethgren tapped his notes. "Jack, have you come across anything like this before? A deliberate arson where the tools are left behind?"

Jack paused for a moment. What he wanted to say would be nothing new to the chief, but maybe, just maybe, some of what he said would ring a bell with the cops. He was new to this town and didn't have a handle on the general population yet. Settling his thoughts, he slid straight into where his experience and knowledge could help.

"Arsonists can be split into five categories. Most arsons are committed for either revenge or excitement. The remainder as acts of vandalism, or to conceal a crime, or for profit, including insurance fraud. Leaving evidence at the site implies the firebug is new to all this, but that doesn't help us categorize him or her. I think we can rule out concealing crime or profit, given that this is a public building and there was no crime in there to hide. But that doesn't tell us whether it was for revenge or excitement."

"So in your opinion?"

"Revenge for a case? Vandalism against a cop, or cops in general. Nothing else was hit, so the precinct was clearly the only target. They clearly didn't realise this part was the Help Line Service … or didn't care. Do you have any ongoing cases, or anything outstanding you should be tracking back?"

"No one who has an arson MO," Davidson answered quickly. Frowning, he glanced down at the photos of the crime scene with the Fire Department markings. "This is a quiet place. Only one suspicious death in twenty years. Other than that, just your average kids' stuff—nothing like attempted murder."

No one mentioned the fact that Davidson had labelled it an attempted murder, simply because it had been. Whoever had thrown the bottle must have known there were people inside.

Jack left the meeting unsettled, and after he stepped out onto the sidewalk, he took a detour back to the destroyed police house. Something itched at the base of his skull—a similarity to a case back in Nashville. A disgruntled ex-employee of a chemical company. There had been no chance of causing damage to his employers, so he'd taken it out on the closest thing—pharmacies carrying the medications his ex-employers created. But the only similarity was that the same method had been used.

Jack recalled that, when questioned, the guy had said he'd researched how to set a fire on the internet. He sighed inwardly. He'd never quite got over the fact that people posted shit like that online—detailed instructions on how to burn a building to the ground in three easy stages, simply using a bottle and accelerant. He'd have to check what instructions were out there for people to follow now. The whole area was cordoned off with tape, and contractors were setting up a ring of fencing around the whole site. The place was still a crime scene, and until the cops and the fire team signed off on the cause, it was likely to stay that way.

Given the assumption that it was arson, Jack just wanted to get one last look at what was left.


	3. Cause and effect

Jack ducked under the tape, then circled the structure.

With the roof collapsed in, it was hard to make an assessment of what had been where. Two levels of the old building had been destroyed through a combination of fire and water, and Jack didn't need witness reports to locate the point of origin. The fire had spread outward, and tracing the widest part of destruction back to the narrowest; there was no question that whoever had thrown that first bottle had been standing on the slight hill to the rear of the building. Jack climbed until he was at that vantage point and looked down at what would have been there.

Chief Lethgren had already been out and done a review, but something about this didn't sit right with Jack. He'd spent his lunch hour flicking through the witness reports. There had been three Crisis Team members in the office. Toshiko Sato, the dispatcher, who'd been leaving to go off shift, Drew Higgins, the only Heddlu officer with a few hours still left on his shift, and Ianto Jones. Of course, there had also been Duncan Gerald. From all he'd heard, the man was the ubiquitous town drunk, and records indicated that Jones had brought him in after picking him up in on the outskirts of town in a bad way.

The dispatcher said a call had been made and Jones had been asked to pick him up on the way back through town from wherever he was. He hadn't even been on duty at th phone switch board and had just been picking the guy up—as every man at this small station had at some point or another—as a favour. Five minutes after making Gerald comfortable in their Safety Room which was for those who needed a quiet space, in Ianto's words, "Just to keep him safe," the fire had started.

Toshiko and Drew had been downstairs. Ianto had been upstairs, signing paperwork in the small area outside holding. Then the explosion. Drew reported it as like a firework that had kept on going— crackles and sparks and a great whoosh of sound. That was consistent with the use of an accelerant and the old construction style of the building.

Ianto, on the other hand, said he'd been immediately overwhelmed by heat before he'd heard a thing. Which implied the entry had been on the upper floor. So whoever had been throwing had aimed up and away from them. They'd evidently had no clue how much damage the fire could cause. In a building that old, there would have been no need for a second attack, but whoever had stood there and thrown that first bottle had a second just in case. This had been focused and personal, and not at all a random thing. Toshiko and Drew had used the front door, and the fire had developed between Ianto, who had been forced down the stairs, and Gerald in the back room. Yet, as soon as Ianto had his wits about him, he'd gone back in. Risked himself for a guy who appeared to have little love from his fellow townspeople. The action had been pure bravery layered with stupidity.

Jack could understand why he had done it.

"What do you think?"

Jack looked up to see the chief staring down at him in his crouch.

"I don't think we can help anymore," Jack concluded. "Forensics on this won't give us anything else. It's a Heddlu matter now."

"I came to the same conclusion." Lethgren sounded tired, and Jack stood with a stretch.

The expression on the other man's face was one of confusion and defeat.

"We can't always have the answers," Jack offered.

Lethgren nodded. "Twenty-four years I've been here, first as a lieutenant, now chief, running the place on a shoestring, and six months from retirement an arsonist falls in my lap. I wanted everything tied up before moving on. Let's pray this is a one-off that can be dealt with."

"I'll start pulling the intel together for the cops," Jack said. The job of the fire guys was to take the evidence to the cops, study burn patterns, work out possible areas where the firebug could have been. Added to that, after ten years of experience Jack was able to work up a valid profile of who could have done this. Of course, his frame of reference was the city of Nashville, where the spectrum of reasons was huge. Holywell was smaller, and maybe his familiarity wasn't so spot-on. Still, he could get something to the cops if it helped. As it was, the bottle would need to be fingerprinted by the cops. The rest of it was their responsibility.

"I need you to liaise and do your thing. I cleared it with Mayor Saxon for you to be with us today."

"Shit," he muttered.

The chief glanced up at him and frowned.

Damn, he didn't want to contradict the chief, but he'd known something like this would happen one day, just not on his second day in town. He wanted to present a reliable face to his new boss; didn't want to give the mayor the impression that he was undependable. It was a problem faced by a huge number of fire fighters who juggled a job and being a volunteer, but he wasn't used to it, having moved from being a full-time fire fighter.

"Son, you were taken on as an administrator with the express agreement that you'd be a fire fighter as well."

Jack nodded. After what had happened to him back in Nashville, he was more than aware that he was stupid—waiting for the axe to fall.

"I need you to check in with Mister Jones. See if he witnessed anything. The mayor said he's dividing off some office space for the cops and help line service until they get a new site up and running. As soon as they are set up at the mayor's office, get on over and give them the heads-up on everything we know."

"Sir."

"And good work last night, Harkness."

Jack thanked him and left, thoughts about what he had seen and been told still spinning in his head. Only one thing floated to the top, past the arson, past the exhaustion that made him long for bed. The cops were setting up at the mayor's place. And the crisis team? That was going to be cosy.

Finally out of the building, Jack headed straight for his truck. Red, solid and rust-free, his old Ford had served him since he returned from America to the place of his birth, Scotland. Now here in Wales, she still held as the only woman who had never disappointed.

Climbing in, he patted the dash affectionately as he did every single time he sat in her.

"Okay, girl," he said, "looks like I brought the shit from the city." He waited until the road was clear, then pulled out onto Main. "So much for a quiet life."

At least he'd get to see Ianto again, if only in a professional capacity. Then he could see how blue his gaze was when his eyes weren't bloodshot.


	4. sexy voice and warm hands

"Ianto?"

_Leave me alone. I'm tired. I don't feel so good. Think I may have the flu._

"Ianto Xavier Jones, you open your eyes right now."

His name—his _full_ name—just about cut through the pain in his head. The tone was familiar—a wash of noise that somehow focused and made sense. His name. Someone was calling his name.

_Mum, I feel like shit—leave me be alone._

Ianto tried to call, "Mum?" but no sound came out. His throat was thick and tight, and there was something in his mouth that hurt. Cold, hard plastic forced past his lips and

into his throat, stopped him from talking.

"He's awake. Sean, go get the doctor."

Was Sean here? Why was his brother here? Ianto only had the flu or something. Sean should be at college. He shouldn't be here. Wherever _here_ was. He forced his eyelids, heavy and scratchy, to open, and the Jones glare was so overwhelming that he shut them again. When he attempted to lift his hand to pull whatever was in his mouth off, something cut into his wrist. What the hell? Was he being held down? Panic curled at the edges of his consciousness, and he struggled against the bonds.

"Ianto, it's your mum—don't panic. Calm down, sweetheart," she crooned. Then, in an entirely different tone within the spectrum of available mom tones, she snapped an instruction at someone to let her son out of the damn restraints.

"The doctor is worried he'll pull out the breathing tube, ma'am. He was trying to remove—"

"Take off the restraints, and I'll make sure he doesn't," she said to the other person in the room with them. Then more quietly to him, with gentle words, "Lie still, Ianto. You hear me, son? We'll get the breathing tube taken out, okay? You just need to lie still."

_Breathing tube? It hurts so much._

He couldn't say he would try, but he moved his head in an approximation of a nod, groaning at the spikes of pain that banded his skull.

"How is he?"

The new voice was deep, growly and familiar. Ianto tried to open his eyes again, he really did, but there was no way he could handle the extra pain.

"He's awake," Ianto's mum confirmed to the guy in the room. "Are you leaving now? Did they clear you?"

Ianto felt he ought to recognize the voice. "I had a small case of smoke inhalation. Hazard of the job, ma'am."

"What about the burns on your hands?"

"These? It's nothing." The owner of that damn sexy voice dismissed her concerns out of hand. There was no false modesty in his voice, just a simple statement.

"Call me Jenny, please. After all, I owe you my son's life."

_My life? What happened? I'm so tired._

"Jenny, then. And we were just doing our job."

"Whatever. I can't thank you enough. I hope you know that."

Silence. Ianto assumed the guy was nodding, or something equally frustrating given his currently blind status.

He felt a touch on his wrist, and whatever was restraining him on the left-hand side slipped away. Experimentally, he attempted to relax and then tense the muscles in his arm.

As his fingers moved and he felt the ache in his arms, he suddenly knew exactly where he was. Hospital. Not only did he know where he was, but with a stab of clarity, he knew why he was there. Fire. Hospital. The choking smoke. The panic returned with a swift kick, and suddenly he couldn't breathe. He clawed at the plastic in his mouth, wanting it out and far away from him.

"Calm down, buddy," the guy with the deep voice said at his side. Evidently "Sexy" hadn't left. The voice had been very close, and the firm authority in his tone was enough to snap through the rising terror that gripped Ianto.

"The nurse is going to be taking the tube out now," Sexy said.

Ianto gripped the guy's hand tightly and followed the nurse's instructions until his throat was finally free and he experienced a whole different world of pain.

Experimentally, he attempted to open his eyes.

He wanted to see who was holding his hand. But just opening his lids welcomed stabbing pain, and reluctantly he shut them again. There was some movement around him, but it was difficult to concentrate on who it might be as the buzzing in his ears grew louder. Then everything went a bit hazy and he gave in to sleep.

When he woke next, he blinked up at the ceiling and realized he wasn't in such a bad place as to the pain. Casting his gaze around the room without moving his head was one thing; actually focusing on anything was another.

He imagined he saw Sean sprawled asleep in the corner

"Sean?" he whispered past the raw scrape of his throat and the pain in his chest. At least his head felt better.

"Sean?" he called again.

Sean finally stirred and crossed to the bed.

"Hey, Ianto," he said gently.

"What happened?" Ianto coughed as his chest tightened.

"Don't you remember?"

"There was a fire."

"Jeez, Ianto." Sean buried fingers in his long dark hair. "You went back into a freaking burning building to get Duncan Gerald, and you were trapped in the fire. The new guy, Jack Harkness, got you out."

Jack Harkness? Ianto concentrated past the wool in his head and remembered the new hire at the mayor's office who was also a new fire fighter. They hadn't met—hell, the guy had only arrived in town a few days ago.

Was that the voice he'd heard? The one asking after him that sounded like whiskey over ice?

_Is Jack here? Was that him talking earlier?_

Ianto attempted to word the question and forced the syllables past his dry throat. Sean leaned in. Evidently what sounded like English in Ianto's head was more like garbled nonsense, because Sean had this worried expression and obviously hadn't heard a word.

"Are you in pain? Ianto? Should I call a nurse?"

"No," he managed to bite out. "Wanna sit up," he said.

The words were clearer, but fuck, it hurt to push the sounds out of him. Sean helped him to sit up. Ianto was thankful that his brother hadn't called in a nurse, who would have been bound to stick him or prod him or tell him to lie down again.

"So," Sean started as he sat on the side of the bed. "I guess you want to know what the fuck happened?"


	5. hello?

OK, since you asked but don't expect me to be nice all the time ... I am known as a horrible person LOL

.

.

5

Ianto managed a nod and resolutely ignored the tightness at the base of his neck.

Sean cursed under his breath. "To sum up, for some reason unknown to man, you decided to go back into a burning building for the town freaking drunk who wouldn't piss on you if you were on fire and who … incidentally… managed to get out but left you inside. Fucking asshole."

_Duncan Gerald?_

Ianto remembered the split-second decision, the single moment when he'd been the only one who'd realized that a man was asleep out back. The fire had taken hold so fast there had been no time to take stock of anything. Gut reaction was all he'd had. Mr Gerald? No one would ever label Duncan as anything but the town bastard, drunk, and loser. Handy with his fists against family and strangers, there wasn't a lot of love lost between him and anyone who crossed his path. Hell, his own son had left town as soon as he'd turned sixteen just to get away.

Duncan was one of Sean's least favourite people, and probably more so now that Ianto had risked his life for the old man.

"Sorry," Ianto groaned helplessly. What else could he say? Whatever had driven him back into the burning building was nothing he could get a handle on himself. Except the need to protect life. Wasn't that what he'd signed up as a man to do?

"Just…don't do it again. The doc was worried about smoke inhalation and cracked ribs. They were going to move you to the city, but you checked out okay to stay here under observation. You're a lucky fucker."

Ianto didn't feel so lucky. Everything ached, from his head to the tips of his toes, and he hoped nothing was broken or damaged beyond repair.

"W'happened?" Two slurred words were all he could manage before another coughing session broke the quiet of the room.

Sean helped him with some sips of water, then sighed heavily.

"Jack Harkness happened. I swear he and you are cut from the same kind of stupid. When Duncan staggered out, and you didn't follow, he ran into the freaking flames to get you. They weren't sure either of you would make it. I've seen what's left, Ianto—everything collapsed in on itself."

Fear coloured Sean's words, and Ianto's guilt intensified. Jack Harkness could have died because some weird streak of heroism had shot through Ianto and made him go into a fire.

"Say sorry," he mumbled. He'd wanted to stay sitting up, but exhaustion stole over him, and Sean wasn't taking any argument as he lowered the back of the bed and encouraged his brother to sleep.

"You don't need to say sorry, man." Sean sighed and settled back in the chair next to the bed. Plainly he was settling in for the night. Or the day. Or whatever the hell time it was. Guilt knifed through Ianto at the danger he'd put the fire fighter in, and as he let the meds take him away to a quieter place his last thought was that he really was going to say sorry.

The next time he woke the light wasn't as bright, and although disoriented, he concluded this was the hospital's fake evening or night, when all the lights were dimmed. He flexed each muscle and made a mental note of the ones that made him wince. His chest was tight—smoke inhalation and the slamming of that damn table into him, probably. Hell, he was lucky it was simply sore and tight and that there were no broken ribs. His left arm hurt from where it had been trapped, but he could still move his fingers, which had to be a good thing.

"You back with us?" Sean said.

"Yeah." Ianto found he could actually speak this time, despite sounding like he smoked forty a day. "What time is it?"

"Ten."

"At night?"

"Yeah. I was just making a move home. The next shift has arrived." There was a smile in Sean's words, and immediately Ianto imagined his poor mum taking the night shift.

"I promise you all I want is sleep. No one needs to sit with me."

"Nah, I wasn't planning on it," Sean said.

"Soon as the clock hit ten I was off to my own bed." He laughed and leaned over his brother to press a kiss against his hair.

"Don't do it again, Ianto," he whispered. "Don't scare us like that."

Ianto fought warring emotions—responsibility and that warm feeling of acceptance that family love could give. It was only when Sean left that Ianto remembered he'd said there was a new shift. He cast his gaze left then right, expecting to see his mum. If there was someone else in the room then they were both invisible and quiet; not how his mom usually was. Clearly, he'd misunderstood, and he wriggled a little to get comfortable. He wasn't tired; more wired and wanting to know what the hell had happened.

He should have asked Sean to help him sit up a bit. There was a TV in the room, and despite the fact that it was unlikely a fire in a small town would make headlines, he thought it might at least connect him to the outside world.

There was a knock on the door, then it opened, and someone came into the room.

Ianto had difficulty focusing. All he knew was that this certainly wasn't his mum. Nope, this was a man who was big and filled the space in the doorway with very little to spare.

"Hey," the visitor said. The one with the voice. Jack Harkness. The man who'd gone into a burning building and pulled his stupid ass away from certain death. "I just got off duty. Thought I'd come over and see how you were doing."

"Oh," Ianto said softly. Gone was his normal clever way with words, and in its place was a tongue-tied idiocy he hadn't experienced since he was thirteen and standing in front of Daniel McMillan in gym class.

"Hi, I'm Jack. Mind if I pull up a chair?" Jack requested, then waited.


	6. huh?

Ianto tensed. Jack wanted to stay and talk. He guessed now was as good a time as any to get his arse reamed over what he'd done. Shame he hadn't met the guy in better circumstances, like in a club where it was obvious that the tall, dark and sexy was gay and wanted copious amounts of sex. That kind of meeting. A _gay_ one.

"No worries," Ianto finally answered. He smelled coffee and, despite knowing it was probably hospital-grade shit, he had a sudden need to caffeinate his blood stream. If he'd known Jack better, he might have asked the guy to get him his own coffee, but he didn't know him, and he was sure coffee wasn't on the list of approved drinks for post-fire patients.

Jack pulled up one of the two hard chairs that Sean had been sprawled in the last time Ianto had woken.

"How are you feeling?" he asked conversationally.

"Good." There wasn't a lot to add about his general physical condition. But there was a shitload more to add to the whole thing. "Alive. Thank you. Sorry."

_There, I've covered all the bases. Now you can go—leave me to feel stupid and guilty on my own._

Jack chuckled and placed the coffee he was holding on the small side table on wheels next to Ianto's bed.

"Glad to hear it, no problem, and why are you sorry?" Jack leaned forward, and finally, Ianto got a proper view of the face of the man who'd saved his sorry arse. His dark hair was short but not buzz-cut, and tousled like Jack had spent a while running his hands through it with a nice flop at the front. It looked soft, and Ianto clenched his fist to stop himself from checking out his theory by patting the fire fighter on the head. Touching the man—who was probably straight—would do nothing except cause some epic smack down.

Ianto concentrated on Jack's face instead. The light might well be low, but it served to shadow the planes of his face, the cleft in his chin that looked like a thumb print, and nothing could hide the extreme blue of his eyes.

A sudden memory of those same eyes, flinty-hard and determined as they stared right at him, flooded Ianto, and he shivered as the fear he'd been feeling since the moment he'd first seen Jack took him by surprise. Jack had been wearing a mask, but still, the absolute resolve in the guy as he'd heaved and levered at the desk, freeing Ianto, had been intense. Ianto closed his eyes as he relived those few seconds. He'd seen worse in his job—kids pinned down by fathers with weapons, suicides bleeding out on the streets—but to actually be the one pinned down and resigned to death? That was some heavy shit to be rolling over him at the moment. His throat tightened as he forced back panic—he couldn't let Jack see him lose it like a freaking kid.

"Okay?" Jack sounded alert and concerned.

_So much for hiding the freak-out._

"Shit," he cursed his thoughts.

Jack grabbed his hand and held on tight.

Ianto didn't fight the hold. He'd already shown Jack what a pussy he was—why not add emotional wreck to the list?

"It's okay, you know." Jack was talking. "First time I was trapped in a fire was only my second day on the job. A probie through and through. I freaked like you wouldn't believe. Knowing death is coming for you when you've barely done shit in your life is intense. When the flames get closer…" Jack let his explanation trail away, then shook his head to emphasize the point.

Jack knew exactly the right thing to say. Ianto opened his eyes and blinked back the blurred vision. If Jack—big strong, fearless fire fighter Jack—had experienced that strength of fear, then Ianto thought maybe he himself wasn't so much of a pussy.

"You came in to get me even though the whole building was burning," Ianto said. He snapped the words out, and they sounded like an accusation.

"Last man out," Jack replied simply. "It's my job to make sure the building is empty."

Ianto realized Jack was still holding his hand. He didn't try to remove the reassuring grip. The touch was comforting and solid, and what Jack had said—that it was his job—made sense. It was Ianto's job to look after the men in his care, whether civilian, arrested, or colleagues; he didn't differentiate his actions based on that.

"I couldn't leave Duncan," Ianto said simply.

Jack nodded. "Last man out," he repeated.

"So me saying sorry?"

"Isn't necessary. Because I understand."

Silence fell between them, and Ianto searched for something to say. The emptiness wasn't awkward, but he wanted to say a few words—anything that would make Jack talk some more. They'd done the whole "it is what it is" conversation. What the hell else was there to talk about?

"I am, you know," Jack said, interrupting the silence. "Gay, that is. That's part of the reason I moved here. I went through some shit at the old firehouse and decided to try another position. Went for the job in the mayor's office and applied for the volunteer fire fighter role here."

"Wha'?" Ianto responded. Okay, so it wasn't the most intelligent of reactions, but why the hell was Jack giving him the story of his life? Not that he wanted to stop him—after all, Jack had him at the word "gay".

"You asked me," Jack said.

"I did? When?" Surely he would have remembered that.

"Exactly how much do you remember from the fire?" Jack asked suddenly.

Ianto recoiled as he was assailed by images of destruction and orange-tinged black. "Not a lot. Getting Duncan out, the explosion, the desk trapping me, you getting me out. Then waking up here."

Jack squeezed his hand and released his grip before sitting back in his chair. Ianto focused on his soft smile and wondered what was up with the amused expression.

"I could fill you in, but suffice it to say you said you always liked firemen and wondered if any of them were gay."

"What?"

Shit. The horror of it was too much to think about.

"Your reason for that question was apparently that you liked their bodies and their…" Jack was holding back laughter, and Ianto immediately hated him. Well, a little, anyway. "Their hoses," Jack finished.

Mortification spread like fire. He groaned and lifted his hands to cover his eyes. He'd said that? He couldn't remember a single thing from fire to hospital. One minute he'd been pinned and being rescued, the next he'd been here. Hell, the shit he'd said was the kind of dumb talking he did when he was drunk; when man Ianto became I-want-sex-Ianto.

"Shit," he finally managed.

"So you don't remember what I said about men in suits?"

"No," Ianto said from behind his hands.

Jack gently pulled Ianto's hands from his face and leaned over him, so close that his face blurred momentarily in Ianto's vision and he blinked until it cleared.

"When you were unconscious, I said I loved a good suit."

Ianto closed his eyes, but there was no way he could hold back the snort of laughter. In one sentence, Jack had put them on a level playing field.

"What are we? Fifteen?" Ianto said.

Jack smiled down at him. "I don't suppose you remember saying that you promised me a date as soon as the world stopped spinning."

Ianto gestured at his pathetic self, laid flat on his back. "Can I get a rain check?"

Jack reached past him to the table on the other side and picked up a piece of paper and a pen. He scribbled for a moment, then put them back down.

"My number." Jack chuckled when all Ianto could do was nod in response. He traced a finger from Ianto's cheekbone to his lips. He leaned across the small remaining distance, pressing his lips to Ianto's cheek. "I'll see you soon, Ianto. Promise. Sleep now."

Ianto watched Jack leave the room, the man's kiss a brand on his cheek and the touch of his fingers a path of heat on his skin. What could he say to that? How had one semi-conscious plea for connection suddenly become so real? He just wished he could remember any of it.

Still, Ianto did as he'd been told, and slept.


	7. calling dibs

Ianto slid lower in the chair at his friend Kieran's house and placed his boots on the small scratched table in front of him. Today was Friday. Every week he and Kieran and the currently absent Daniel met up for beers and boy talk.

Three days out of the hospital, he'd finally been cleared to go back to work this morning, and his shift started in a little over an hour at freaking ten p.m. At least he'd get a couple of hours with his friends. He couldn't help feeling pissed, though, that he was on what Chief Davidson had called "light duties".

"It's the death watch. All you can do then is file," he muttered.

"Filing at night is better than going up against men with guns and drugs in the daytime," Kieran pointed out helpfully.

Friends since kindergarten, he and Kieran had seen a lot in this town, but men with guns and drugs were not something that had ever happened in either's memory. In fact, the most exciting thing to happen in Holywell for years had been the fire at the station, and Ianto had been slap bang in the middle of that one.

Kieran grinned at his joke, then finished the remainder of his beer in three swallows.

"Arse, it's a helpline not a bloody tactical team," was all Ianto could manage.

Kieran had plagued him in the hospital with his stupid jokes and never-ending teasing. Ianto had grumbled back at him, but at the end of the day what Kieran had done was take Ianto away from the nightmare of almost being burned to death trapped by a table in a collapsing police station.

A noise outside the window made both men turn first that way, and then to the clock on the wall.

"He's early," Kieran commented. "That's a first."

The throaty roar of the Ducati silenced, and Ianto imagined the third of their weekly gathering climbing the steps to Kieran's property and walking in with beers in hand and a ready grin. He wasn't disappointed. Daniel McMillan, the windblown knight of the road and Ianto's first crush, dumped the beer in the fridge, and then pushed Ianto's feet off the table so he could replace them with his own as he lay back on the sofa.

"You okay?" he asked Ianto.

Ianto nodded. There was no point in rehashing it all—they'd already covered most of it when Daniel had paid a couple of visits to his friend in the hospital.

"Roads out of the city were shit," Daniel said to change the subject. "So I took the back way up past the cabins."

"There's a car show in town. Watch for the…"

Kieran and Daniel's voices faded into background noise as Ianto regarded his friends closely. They were good people, and he felt any tension in his body drain away as he relaxed. Maybe nearly dying had made him realize that he took them for granted, maybe he was just maudlin now he'd reached twenty-five, he didn't know, but tonight he looked at them differently. They were all the same age, product of the same school year. Where Kieran was the blue-eyed blond with the grin and the glass-half-full attitude, Daniel was the bad boy with dark hair, shades, the bike, and no specific career that anyone could pin him down on.

Daniel was a former marine, only six months back from his last tour in Afghanistan, and he had yet to settle on any alternate activity except for helping his mom around the cabins with Kieran. He was still on call if he was needed, and it seemed to Ianto that Daniel was in limbo.

He could see changes in Daniel since he'd returned from his last tour. His friend had always had a sense of freedom and living in the moment, but recently he'd appeared much quieter than Ianto was used to. Still, he remained the direct opposite of Kieran, who had a much more certain view on life. Kieran was the steady one. The one you could rely on. Which made Ianto what? If on the surface Daniel was the typical bad boy, with Kieran being the good guy, where did that put Ianto? Maybe he was the not-quite-anything-in-particular guy. Not as catchy a title, he guessed, but mostly true.

The three men had been meeting every Friday for six months. Daniel had started it. He'd come home with the bad-boy label he'd earned at school reinforced by the new air of the battle-worn about him. Then he'd called Ianto, an on and off friend from high school.

Ianto interrupted whatever Kieran and Daniel had been talking about.

"Dan, do you remember when you phoned me?" Both men turned to look at Ianto.

"This week?" Daniel appeared confused for a second.

"No, when you called me about meeting up. Do you remember how you explained yourself and why you wanted to talk to me?" Ianto waited while Daniel got with the program.

Light dawned across Daniel's face. "You mean the whole 'Shit, I'm gay, and I know fuck all and have suppressed it all, help me' conversation?"

"Yeah, that one," Ianto said. He waited for a second, and both Daniel and Kieran stared at him expectantly.

"What about it?" Daniel finally prompted.

The question pushed Ianto back to his train of thought. "You remember what I said to you about the type of guy I like?"

"Yeah, you said…" Daniel swallowed another mouthful of beer and seemed to be recalling memories. "Tall, which ruled out midget here—"

"Fuck you, Daniel, I'm not a midget—I'm above average height," Kieran snapped with no real heat.

"Above average for a pygmy," Daniel snarked back.

Kieran was five nine. In Ianto's mind that wasn't so short, but then he wasn't a dead ringer for Officer Dibble, and the other two often called him that. There was affection in the nicknames and gentle ribbing. Daniel and Kieran were laughing and exchanging insults.

"Guys?" Ianto pulled them back to what he'd asked Daniel.

"Yeah, so, you said tall, built, dark, blue eyes, although you'd take brown eyes, and preferably in uniform." Daniel counted off each point on his fingers.

"So I met this guy."

Silence. Kieran sat up in his seat. Even Daniel had nothing to say. This was what their Fridays were for.

Somewhere for the three of them to unload their thoughts and worries, somewhere safe to talk men without fear of getting beaten up.

"In this town? In the hospital? A doctor? Who?" Kieran asked rapidly. "No, it has to be new blood—"

"Jack Harkness. You know, the one who—"

"—pulled you from the fire. Oh my God, way tall and built. I've seen him in town." Kieran smirked as he said that.

The biggest problem for the Holywell Fridays, as Daniel had christened them, was that Holywell wasn't a big pot for available guys.

"There's fresh meat in town?" Daniel asked.

"He's off limits," Ianto explained carefully. Irritation built at Daniel's words, only because he felt if Jack ever met Daniel, then Ianto's chances would be zero.

He wanted this one like never before.


	8. boys and their banter

"I saw him yesterday, but let's face it, he's not my type." Kieran shrugged.

"I like them less…" He waved his hands, then touched Daniel's biceps which were, Ianto admitted, impressive. "Less muscled."

"I like strong guys," Daniel pointed out.

Ianto couldn't call Daniel on that. To his knowledge, he'd been so far back in the closet for so long that he'd stopped talking about guys, let alone having a type.

Ianto leaned forward.

"Strong? Hell, he lifted me and carried me out of the building." He sat back as Kieran raised his eyebrows and Daniel smirked. Ianto wasn't small. Yes, he was a couple of inches shorter than Jack's six foot and then some, but he was slimmer, more of a runner than a fighter. Still, a guy who could manhandle you was something both he and Kieran liked.

"I'm leaving you girls to talk and go get more beer," Daniel said. He moved off to the kitchen, and Ianto heard his friend rummaging about for the chips and dip that Kieran always had in stock for their Friday meet-ups.

"Not for me—I'm on duty in an hour," Ianto said.

"Hurry up, then, and tell me more," Kieran prompted. "He lifted you. Like. _Lifted_ your heavy arse?"

Daniel muttered something about ewoks, and Kieran threw a bag of chips at him with a curse.

"Fire fighter's carry, I assume," Ianto said. "Then—jeez, this is so embarrassing—I think I came on to him when I was with the paramedics. I don't remember, though. Well, I recollect blue eyes, I think."

Ianto concentrated on what he could recall. A lot of that night was lost in visions too terrible to contemplate, but he wished he could remember what he'd said.

"So he says I said something about not being able to find any gay fire fighters in a small-town."

"I'm impressed that was your priority, given the whole nearly dying thing," Kieran said and exchanged a pointed glance with Daniel.

Ianto didn't want this to get serious; he was finished with serious at the moment. "I may have mentioned something else about the size of his hose."

Kieran snorted beer, then called out to Daniel, "Did you hear that, Dan? Our boy here complimented the new guy in town on the size of his hose."

"Is it big, then?" Daniel said. He dropped snacks on the small table and passed Kieran another beer.

Ianto groaned into his coffee and grabbed a handful of Pringles. He was on shift from ten tonight until six in the morning, and he was already way into snack and caffeine mode. Shifts played havoc with metabolism, and only the gym stopped him from turning into a real-life doughnut in the space of a month. Thankfully, working hard made his stomach flat and his body spare. Just the way he liked to be. He wondered if Jack preferred his partners slim and agile like him, or short, blond and funny like Kieran, or tall, dark and brooding like Daniel. Did Jack top? Ianto was up for switching, but he loved to be manhandled.

Oh God. He was back to that again.

Thinking of Jack's muscles and strength made Ianto hard. He wondered if the fire fighter was out to his colleagues. Ianto was to his. When he'd become a man and come back home, he'd been moving to a place that had known he was gay since he'd come out at sixteen. A supportive family and friends had made it, if not entirely easy, at least bearable. Not so Daniel and Kieran. Daniel had got stuck with the bad-boy label and had never really come to terms with himself, then slipped into the weirdly restrictive forces world of post-DADT. He'd not even told his mom, and Ianto and Kieran weren't going to betray that confidence. Then there was Kieran, whose parents supported him. But while his dad remained mayor of Holywell, they preferred he kept it on the down-low. Being the son of a public servant played havoc with the sex life of any horny teenager or guy in his twenties. He used his mother's maiden name as much as possible but everyone knew who he was.

"I haven't seen his hose, or him, since I was in the hospital." Ianto realized the new gate he'd opened for questions.

"He came to visit you there?" Kieran sat forward with a raptly interested expression on his face.

Daniel interrupted. "Did he bring you a gift? Flowers? Chocolates? Condoms and lube?"

Ianto decided to treat the comment with the contempt it deserved and instead gave his friends the finger.

"Routine stuff," he said after a short while. "I mean, we'll have a meeting at some point on the forensics on the fire. But he wasn't at the hospital for that. He pulled me out of the building, risked his life for me, probably feels responsible for me and shit. He gave me his number and said he'd see me again."

"He is so out of your league," Kieran quipped. "I think he needs a short blond showing him around town."

Ianto frowned, and Kieran held his hands up in mock defence. "I was joking. Hey, a thought, though…you say he's _your_ fantasy? What if _his_ fantasy is a man tying him to the bed with handcuffs in a uniform ... you are technically a cop and have blues and everything?"

"Handcuffs hurt," Daniel interrupted. "I've been on the wrong end of those things one too many times when I was arrested as a teenager."

"He'd have to order in softer handcuffs from the city," Kieran informed them both. He had an air of knowledge about him that made Ianto look appraisingly at his friend. "I can give you a web address. I get a volume discount on all kinds of cool stuff."

"You know way too much about that for me to feel comfortable," Ianto said.

Kieran laughed and shrugged it all away with a wink. Catching sight of the time, Ianto knew he had to put an end to this particular Friday. He had exactly thirty minutes to get from the cabins to the new help line inside the mayor's office, and that was doable unless the road got blocked by a freaking stag, like the last time he'd left here.

"I'm gone," he announced.

Daniel stretched lazily on the sofa. It would take him literally two minutes to walk to the next cabin, and it didn't look like he was going anywhere soon. Kieran appeared equally settled, and Ianto hated that he had to leave early for the first time since they'd begun meeting on Fridays. They might well have decided to meet up because they had the gay thing in common, but Fridays had soon become more – a trio of guys making their way through the world with each other's support. He needed his friends as much as they did him.

Ianto had so many questions tonight. Maybe Jack was a man who promised sin but kept that part of himself hidden.

How did you start a relationship? What did you do? He was twenty-five, and his experience was mostly of quick fucks—trips to clubs in the city and meet-ups in no-tell motel rooms. Of course, he also had his two years with Neil-the-controlling-bastard at college, but he pushed that from his thoughts. He should leave this alone and not be dragged in by thoughts of hot sex in secret locations.

A bear did not shit on his own front step.

Or something like that.


	9. picking something up at the store

The office was quiet. No, scratch that, the office was dead. He and the dispatcher, Toshiko Sato, were the only people there, and there was nothing on the boards. This shift was just to cover the phones, and they hadn't rung since he'd started. He'd caught up on paperwork. They hadn't managed to get much out of the burned offices, but there was enough recovered information in the cloud and online systems to enable the department to get back on its feet. Tosh was a miracle worker.

His coffee finished, he was pleased to see relief arriving in the form of a bleary-eyed colleague. Ianto signed out and climbed into his car.

Exhaustion stole over him, and only necessity had him stopping at the store for food. People asked him how he was doing— more people than he would have expected to be there at six-thirty a.m. Which was why he wasn't overly surprised to see Jack in the aisle ahead of him. Abruptly incredibly tongue-tied, for a second he stared, but when Jack turned and saw him, Ianto smiled. Jack returned the smile and came to him by the apples in two strides.

"Hi," he said. "How are you doing?"

Ianto stood shifting the basket from left to right hand. "Good."

"Your hand okay? Chest better? Breathing good?" Jack asked solicitously.

Ianto knew he meant from the effects of the fire, and yes, he felt fine, but hell, breathing at all here and now was hard work. This was freaking stupid. He was a trained councillor. He'd faced down aggressive addicts and talked his way out of a lot worse, talked down suicide calls for the love of God, and it had never freaked him out. But to stand there in front of Jack, who ticked every single one of his "right here, right now" boxes, and form words was hard. Come to think of it, that wasn't the only thing that was hard.

"I was cleared back to work," Ianto answered. To be fair, that was the answer to every question Jack had asked. The expression on Jack's face changed immediately, from concerned and considerate to predatory. The change was stunning and complete in an instant. Jack took a step closer, and Ianto had nowhere to go, given the backs of his knees were up against a display of citrus fruit.

The size of Jack, the height of him, the muscles that meant he could drag a man out of fire was all up in Ianto's space. Jack pressed his free hand to Ianto's hipbone and deliberately dragged his fingers down his thigh.

If anyone who knew Ianto came around the corner and saw the town's new fire fighter this close, Ianto knew the whole question of whether Jack was in the closet would be a moot point.

"Dinner tonight?" Jack said.

"I'm on duty at eleven," Ianto admitted.

"Maybe another time? I could do Friday…"

Though regret poked at him, there was no way he was giving up his Fridays with Kieran and Daniel. "I can't do Fridays."

But Jack wasn't deterred. "Saturday, then?"

"I'm free from six."

"We could get something to eat? There's that bar in town…does it do food?"

"It does."

"Meet you there at six-thirty?"

Ianto nodded, and Jack began to leave.

"Jack," Ianto called, and waited as the fire fighter pivoted and took the few steps back to him.

"Yeah?"

Ianto lowered his voice. "People know. About me, in town I mean. It's not a secret, so if you want to meet up somewhere else, back at my place or something…"

He didn't want to come over as too forward, but if Jack wasn't out at work or something, then he needed to be careful in Holywell. Small towns were hotbeds of gossip, and everyone knew everyone else's business.

"I don't hide a thing," Jack confirmed. "I've fought too many battles to have any more secrets."

That was a loaded statement, but Ianto would have to wait until Saturday to ask more about that, given that Jack was gone. He'd gone to the cashiers, paid for his food, sketched a small nod to Ianto, and Ianto was still standing in the produce aisle like an idiot.

Friday was interesting, starting with finding Duncan drunk and sitting on the roof of his cabin, lamenting the loss of his family.

And, as usual, Ianto took the call. Most the time he was the one dealing with Duncan, because he was the only one who appeared to have any compassion left in him for the tired old man. It took an hour to get him down, and with no room to put him in to sleep it off, Ianto ended up tucking him into bed in a messy bedroom filled with cardboard boxes and newspapers.

"Luke hates me, you know—my own son hates me," Duncan mumbled, his breath sharp enough to strip wallpaper at ten paces. Ianto couldn't fail to notice the empty vodka bottles, whiskey bottles, and beer cans, littered around the bed.

Carefully, he picked them up and put them in one of the emptier boxes, pushing it to one side. At least he'd dealt with the trip hazards. He checked the rest of the place; mess upon dirt, and Ianto couldn't help but feel sorry for the old man who had lost his way.

There was a small shrine to the Gerald family; some photos of a young woman Ianto knew was Duncan's wife, and then a few graduation photos of Luke, along with some baby photos. Luke hadn't been back to Holywell in years now, and Ianto could imagine a child of Duncan's being just as lost as his father.

He left Duncan's place and got stopped on the road by the Stag he'd taken to calling Alf, for no other reason than it was a cute. He logged the appearance in his records and made a note to pass on the intel.

Back at work, he filed the sighting and the babysitting, grabbed his final coffee of the day, and made his way home. Tonight the Fridays were meeting at his place, and he wanted to check on the stag in the town limits situation, given that tomorrow was his day off. Kieran was the first to arrive—a good thirty minutes early, actually—and as usual,

Daniel was an hour late. Ianto loved his regular life; the friends he had, the town, his house in the hills.

Hell, he loved that he shared the woods with a stag called Alf.

He would like to add another name to that list.


	10. that date

"So I have a date," Ianto announced when both Kieran and Daniel were chilled and lulled into that part of the night where things tended to get deep. Kieran sat upright; Daniel raised an eyebrow. Pretty much the reactions Ianto had expected from his best friends.

"With tall, dark and sexy?" Kieran asked.

"No, with the other guy he was interested in," Daniel snarked.

Thus ensued a fight with a roll of Pringles, most of which ended up crunched into the floor, and Daniel face-first on the couch with Kieran sitting on him. For a small guy, Kieran was pretty damn fierce.

They dusted off, laughing like idiots, and Ianto waited patiently for the chaos to end.

"Yes," he finally said. "With Jack. Tomorrow at the bar."

"Oh, did you know Idris said he's changing the name of the bar?" Daniel asked out of left field; he did that a lot.

"What to?" Daniel asked.

"He's calling it The Alibi, which is cool."

For that, Kieran got another Pringle thrown at him, but this time Ianto didn't let the whole thing deteriorate.

"Guys, focus."

Kieran and Daniel both looked at him.

"Your blue shirt, with the dark jeans," Kieran said, after a pause and with a wide teasing grin.

"What?" Ianto wasn't following this.

"We're discussing what you're wearing, right?" Kieran deadpanned.

"You going to the hair salon?" Daniel joined in, setting Kieran off laughing again. "Get your roots touched-up?"

Ianto banged the back of his head on the sofa. So much for supportive, non-idiot friends.

"Guys," he began, loudly enough to stop Kieran laughing and at the same time get Daniel's attention. "At least one of us is guaranteed to get laid."

That shut them up, and silence reigned for a good few seconds, until abruptly it was _his_ turn to be pelted with Pringles.

Yeah, they both clearly thought him dating Jack would be a good thing.

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

Ianto took a stool at the bar, leaned on the counter and watched Idris work at the huge coffee machine that was his pride and joy.

"Hey," Idris said when he turned with coffee for a tourist. They didn't get many tourists in town, but Ianto internally winced. He knew the town so well he could tell who didn't fit here. The only out-of-town people they saw were people who stayed in the cabins, but even then no one stayed in Holywell to drink beer or coffee. Not Idris' coffee anyway. Ianto had given up trying to show him the correct way to use that beast of a machine.

"Hey," Ianto answered. "Can I get a beer?"

Idris passed over an ice-cold beer, Ianto's usual on the nights he could actually enjoy a cold one.

"Your guy was in the corner, but he got up and left about five minutes ago," Idris said and nodded his head toward the far corner.

"He left? And, wait, what do you mean, _my guy_?"

Idris shrugged. "He said he'd be back in five and to save the table, so I assumed."

"He did?"

Idris made a shooing motion with his hands, and Ianto raised his bottle in salute before crossing to the table. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror as he passed the end of the bar, and thought he even looked good tonight. He'd followed Kieran's weird advice and worn the blue shirt and the dark jeans and taken the time to attempt to style his hair, although it was already flopping a little over his right eye.

"Looking good, Ianto," someone called.

Ianto went scarlet and hurried to the table, sliding into the seat with his back to the door. No way did he want to acknowledge the person who had called that out, although he suspected from the deep tone that it had been Lethgren.

The damn man had winked at him twice today and nodding his head at Jack at the same time. Jack who'd been diligently doing whatever assistants to the Mayor did while Ianto completed paperwork on the Duncan incident. They hadn't talked to each other in the office. There was this buzz between them, anticipation, and the exchange of soft smiles. It was all Ianto could do not to tell Jack how gorgeous he looked in his suit, but then that would mean crossing a line at work.

Right?

A hand touched his shoulder, but he didn't flinch—he knew it was Jack, although he didn't know how.

"Hi," Jack said, and slid into the seat facing him. "Sorry, I forgot this." He slid a bag across the table. "It's for you," he added unnecessarily. "Instead of flowers or whatever."

Jack dipped his gaze momentarily, and Ianto was unaccountably pleased to see that there was a chink in the big man that was Jack Harkness.

He reached into the bag and pulled out a plastic toy, a Dalmatian wearing a bright yellow fire hat, with a hose coiled around his butt and holding the other end of the hose in his mouth.

"You said you like fire fighters," Jack said, "and there wasn't much choice in the store."

Ianto smiled and turned the toy over in his hand, "I'll put this on my desk at work."

Even in the gloom of this corner of the bar, Ianto saw the way Jack wrinkled his nose and smiled back. "That's cool."

Ianto put the dog back in the bag. "I didn't get you anything," he said.

Jack rolled his broad shoulders. "It was just a small funny gag gift, no biggie. I saw it and thought of you."

Something passed between them, and Ianto thought it was a mix of "let's eat" with a whole lot of "let's go home and fuck." Thankfully for his sanity, Idris interrupted.

"Special tonight is three-alarm chili or chicken surprise." Ianto had heard the patented Idris chicken-surprise joke before, but Jack hadn't, and he fell for it hook, line and sinker.

"What's the surprise?"

"It's lamb," Idris deadpanned.

Jack blinked up at Idris for a moment, then smiled widely. "Chicken surprise for me."

"I'll have the chili," Ianto said, then realized he'd left himself wide open.

"Hmmm," Idris began. "At least you have a fire fighter who can help you handle the heat."

Ianto groaned and watched Idris leave. "Twat," he muttered under his breath.

"I like him," Jack said, and shrugged when Ianto looked at him pointedly. "He's funny. I like this whole town."

"You do?" Ianto loved Holywell; he'd been born here, grown up here, and though his parents had moved away, there was no way he was leaving Holywell for a while. Yes, it was run down in places, yes, the recession had bitten hard, and yes, some families had moved away, but it was home, and he loved it.

"You sound surprised. I think Holywell has a lot going for it." Jack leaned forward over the table and dropped his voice. "Including the sexy man sitting right in front of me."


	11. first date disaster

Jack winked, and Ianto snorted a laugh. "That is so cheesy."

Jack looked affronted for a moment, then grinned. "I know, but it's mostly true. I never thought I'd meet someone here I'd be interested in; thought I'd have to get out to town." He swallowed some beer. "So tell me what it's like living in Holywell."

Ianto considered the question carefully. "Quiet, friendly, not much in the way of crime apart from the whole burning down-the-precinct-house thing."

"Yeah, day two of me being here," Jack said, and sat back in his chair nursing a beer. He was almost too big for the chair, the width of his shoulders dwarfing the wooden back.

"We have some issues with drugs in the mountains—some parts are pretty remote, and we have a close relationship with the drug squad—but other than that, yeah, it's small-town life. So what made you leave the city?"

Ianto noticed the brief tension in Jack's expression but didn't comment. "I loved what I did; I just didn't like the house I was assigned to. Their tolerance levels were low, and I was ready for a change."

Ianto imagined there was way more to that story, but he didn't press for details. Tonight he wanted to flirt and end their date with a kiss—deep, meaningful conversation he could leave for another time.

Their food arrived, and Ianto ate his chilli while enduring teasing about the heat of it and watching Jack talk animatedly about college football, something he was passionate about watching in his spare time.

"I also want a dog," Jack announced after they'd exhausted football and Ianto's passion for rugby. "I couldn't have one in the city, but here, I could get a dog."

"What breed of dog?"

"I don't know. A lab, maybe? I like hiking, and a dog seems to be just the right thing for that."

"I know a family with a lab due to litter in a few weeks. I can give you their address, and you could talk to them. Not sure who managed to break in to do the deed—not sure you'd get a hundred percent lab."

Jack nodded and smiled widely, like a kid at Christmas. It was hopelessly endearing and openly affectionate. "Yeah, I'd like that, and I don't care—a mutt is the kind of dog I would love."

The first time Ianto checked his watch, he saw it was eleven, and a glance behind him had the bar still full, Idris leaning over and chatting to clients. This bar was good for the town, a place to talk and air grievances and to make things happen.

"You need to go?" Jack asked, and Ianto turned back to face him. "I'm off tomorrow."

"Me too. Well, I'm on call, but you know what I mean." He pushed aside a plate that had held chocolate cake. The way he'd eaten that cake should have been outlawed, or at least banned, so no one except Ianto saw it. Jack had taken his time, sucking tiny mouthfuls off his fork.

Obscene. Sexy. Stimulating.

And he'd known what he was doing, because he'd kept looking at the cake, looking back at Ianto, and then smiling.

"You want me to show you some of the hiking around here?"

Now, that was an open-ended question. This could be the moment when Jack politely declined with an excuse that Ianto would accept without argument. Or it could be the moment when Jack said yes and they had tomorrow organized.

"I'd love to. I can't go far."

"Just to the trailheads. None of them are more than five minutes from town."

"It's a date, then," Jack said.

He leaned over to say something, but a commotion behind them had his eyes widening. Ianto turned to see what was happening and was up on his feet in an instant. Duncan was in the bar, the door to the cold outside wide open, and the crowd had separated. The last place Duncan should be was a bar.

"Beer," he shouted over the heads of people at the bar who hadn't moved away.

Idris placed the glass he was wiping on the counter. "Sorry, Duncan, we've had the last call."

Duncan blustered and slurred his way through an explanation about how the bar was normally open until arse a.m. and that he wanted a beer.

Ianto stood up. "Sorry," he apologized to Jack.

To his credit, Jack waved him off. "Go."

Ianto made his way through the people to the front of the bar, seeing how some of them wanted to watch the car crash that was the life of the town drunk, and others were picking up their belongings from their tables and leaving. Ianto locked eyes with Idris, and Idris frowned. Ianto hoped his sharp nod indicated that he'd be dealing with things.

"Let's go, Duncan," he said as he came to a stop next to him, "bar's closing."

"Ain't two a.m.," Duncan slurred.

"I know where else we can get beer—let's go."

Ianto guided Duncan out the door, holding his breath every time he got a face full of alcoholic fumes. Duncan was completely gone here. What if the idiot choked on his own vomit or something? There was no bed in a room where he could be watched, no way he was going home. For a few seconds Ianto was overwhelmed by the need to make a decision, then Duncan took it out of his hands. He went limp next to Ianto and collapsed in a messy heap on the ground.

"Think we need to call the boys in blue?" Jack said. He'd followed Ianto out and probably seen his indecision.

"Idris said this is yours," he said and handed Ianto his coat. Only then did Ianto realize he was shivering.

"That's the only thing I can think of doing," Ianto said as he snuggled into his coat. "I've exhausted all the other possibilities."

Jack took out his phone, but Ianto held up a hand to stop him. Together they got Duncan into the recovery position, and then Ianto pulled out his cell, thumbing Doctor Owen Harper's number. Thank God Owen answered on the third ring.

"Ianto?"

"Doc, we have a bit of a situation."

"Shoot."

"Duncan."

Owen sighed heavily. "Where are you?"

"Outside the bar."

"I'll be there."

Ianto pocketed his cell and crouched down next to Duncan. Being close to the guy gave him the feeling he had the situation under control, which he plainly didn't.

Jack crouched next to him. "You called a doctor."

"Owen; he's chief at the hospital. He'll bring an ambulance. It's his turn to babysit Duncan."

"He does this a lot?"

"Duncan? Yeah, he's an alcoholic. Most of the time he keeps it at home, but once or twice a week he comes down from the cabins into town, and this is what we deal with. You don't have to wait here," he added, pissed that this Duncan thing meant he'd miss out on more Jack time.

"I'll stay," Jack reassured him, then stood and brushed his jeans.

Ianto stayed right where he was until Owen, and the resident paramedic rolled up, no lights, no sirens, and with resignation on their faces.

"We need to get that Heddlu house rebuilt," Owen said as they shook hands. "It wasn't our turn to have Duncan."

He was teasing—no one in this town would leave Duncan on the road like this—but it was only the cops and the hospital who had a place he could stay and be monitored.

"I'll owe you one, Doc."

Jack helped to get Duncan into the ambulance, held a bowl as the barely conscious man vomited, and then stood right by Ianto as the ambulance disappeared around the corner.

"I need to go," Ianto said regretfully.

"You going to the hospital?"

"Just to do the paperwork, check in on him."

"I can come with you."

Ianto pressed a hand to Jack's chest. "Not sure I want our first date to be defined by vomit and alcohol. We can pick this up tomorrow. Ten okay? Meet you here?"

"By the bar?" Jack asked for confirmation.

"By the bar."

"Deal."

Ianto smiled up at Jack and wondered if maybe they could finish the evening with a kiss. Seemed like Jack read his mind, placing his hands on Ianto's arms and moving closer. Their lips met in the dark of the street, and Ianto closed his eyes and was lost immediately to the sensation of being held so firmly. He tilted his head, welcomed the deepening kiss, and fuck; this man knew how to kiss.

Noise from the bar, the door opening, and a couple of pointed wolf whistles broke the kiss apart, and Ianto wanted to haul Jack back in for more.

He didn't. Instead, he twisted his fingers further into the material of Jack's coat.

"Tomorrow," he said. "Ten a.m. Here."

"It's a date."

Ianto released his hold, so did Jack, and they moved apart. Ianto was the one who needed to leave this staring match, and with a smile, he pivoted and jogged in the same direction the ambulance had gone. He had a case to process.

And a second date to imagine.

Good times.


	12. in the open air

Ten came and went, and still no sign of Ianto. Not that Jack was worried …the guy was a man and seemed to have his fingers in all kinds of pies around town. Jack had been reliably informed that Ianto was like a one-man super-team of awesome. Or at least that was what Jack had read into all the comments he'd received since last night. Agony Aunt, first responder, suicide Task Force, Grief Councillor …. The list went on.

He'd been offered a free haircut by the owner of Cut 'n' Curl, given discount coupons by the Holts, who owned the grocery store, and been waylaid by Idris from the bar, who'd thanked him for his assistance.

Yep, it had been the kind of small-town morning he'd never experienced in the city. When Ianto arrived, out of breath and ten minutes late, all Jack wanted to do was haul him up close for another one of those perfect kisses. He didn't; it was morning, and people walked past them.

"Sorry I'm late," Ianto apologized.

"Don't worry. Everything okay?"

"Yeah Duncan, again. Don't ask."

Jack made an effort not to react to another of those freaking wolf whistles. Ianto, on the other hand, seemed to have no worries about reacting.

"Stow it, Mickey," he snapped.

Jack followed Ianto's gaze and saw a kid with dreadlocked hair on the sidewalk, leaning against a lamp post and looking like he owned the place.

"New guy, Ianto?" Mickey called.

"Get lost, kid," Ianto said, but there was no malice in his tone.

Jack reached out and took Ianto's hand. "Let's go," he said.

Ianto smiled at him, turned his back on the cackling kid, and led Jack down an alley between shops. This took them to the river, and Ianto dropped his hold as he stopped and did a three-sixty turn.

"Not sure where to start," he began. "Up there is Holywell Peak, and if you have a day, then we could hike up there from here. Takes you up past my house, so you might want to park at mine and we could head out from that point."

Jack heard him speaking but wasn't listening; he was watching Ianto's mouth move, but all he wanted to do was kiss the man.

He glanced left and right, then in mid-sentence he hauled Ianto in for a kiss. What was it about this man that made him go all _want right-now_? This wasn't him; he was controlled, and he took kissing very seriously, but something about Ianto had him wanting to kiss him until he couldn't breathe. And Ianto was into it—he wrapped his hands around Jack's neck and held on tight, tilting his head, stepping closer so they were separated only by their heavy coats.

"I want you out of this coat," Jack murmured.

Ianto ran the tip of his tongue over his lips and smirked.

"Might be a bit cold here," he said.

"You want to come to mine for dinner tonight?"

"And more kissing?" Ianto asked with a smile.

His cell vibrated in his pocket, and he stepped back and away to look at the screen.

"Shit, we've been called in. I need to go," he said, disappointment in his tone.

"Is everything okay?"

"Garbage fire. Look, dinner tonight, right?" Jack said.

"Barring emergencies. Six?"

"I'm on duty at eleven."

"Then we have five hours."

Jack hurried away, his focus on the emergency, arriving at the scene at the same time as the engine. The fire wasn't big, but there was a danger of the flames reaching the house, and they dealt with it efficiently.

The fire out, it had obviously been set deliberately, a gas can on one side and the burn pattern obvious. The plastic garbage containers were a mass of melted green and blue, and the owners of the house were fluttering around the perimeter looking angry and scared at the same time.

"Kids," Lethgren announced.

"Not our firebug, then?" Jack asked, and crouched down next to Lethgren.

"This was matches and gas and a garbage can in the back end of nowhere. I'm fairly confident there isn't a link."

Jack had to agree, but he'd write the report up with an eye to the other incident.

They separated, and Jack was back home by early afternoon. He wrote up the incident, then considered what the hell he was going to do Ianto for dinner.

When he stared into his empty fridge, he had only one thought.

Takeout looked good.

Then he berated himself. Just because he was single and on his own didn't mean he had to be a cliché. He should make it to the grocery store at least.

Ianto wandered around the store, stopping to chat to anyone who was willing to talk. He had a lot of time to kill until six. When he ran out of people to talk to, he pushed his trolley around to the fresh produce aisle. This was where he needed to be—fresh fruit, vegetables—and he needed to focus.

On buying food.

Not on Jack.

But hell, that kiss. And an invitation to dinner. Of course, it hadn't been an invitation for no-holds-barred sex, but Ianto couldn't help the way his brain worked. Groaning inwardly at the path his thoughts were taking, he picked up a bunch of bananas and peered at them.

Jeez, Jack was so big and tall… Fuck, did Ianto have to wait until six to take this horizontal?

"We need to stop meeting like this." The voice from Ianto's daydream was right behind him, and he felt the heat on his face.

He turned, and Jack was right up in his space, with a bag of apples in his hand, and a grin.

"How was the fire?" Ianto asked.

"Kids," Jack answered.

So much for a professional information-exchange moment. Ianto shifted his stance, and his free hand grazed Jack's thigh, because Jack was that close. He pulled the hand back like he'd touched a fire. Lust sparked inside him, and right then, if Jack had grabbed lube and condoms and bent Ianto over the fruit and vegetables, Ianto would probably have let him in.

"You're in one of the houses off Main, aren't you?"

Jack raised an eyebrow at the question.

"Good detective work," he said softly.

Ianto narrowed his gaze. Was Jack accusing him of being up in his business, or praising him for being a man and knowing what was happening in his town?

"I'll be at yours for six," Ianto said instead of asking what Jack meant. Because, hell, not everyone had a hidden agenda. When Jack grinned, he knew he was being teased.

"Do you need me to bring anything?"

"Just yourself," Jack responded. He smiled, and the smile reached his beautiful eyes.

_Beautiful? Since when did I see things as beautiful?_

Ianto swayed toward Jack, then just as quickly realized what he was doing. Standing there surrounded by lemons and melons, he was reacting with a visceral need to Jack's sexy voice.

The two of them stood for a few moments looking at each other, and it was only when Gwen on the checkout called for a price that they moved apart. The grating nasal voice asking for assistance for cashier three was enough to break the spell that had woven its way around them.

Jack chuckled, looking left then right, and sauntered away toward the cereal aisle, leaving Ianto bereft.

Ianto deliberately went the opposite way and wasn't sure where he was heading. He was only a little shocked when he realized he was standing right in the centre of the pharmacy aisle—nose to nose with condoms. Should he take some with him? Was that what he wanted? Hell yes, that was what he wanted. What would the cashier think? What if it was Gwen, who to all intents and purposes was something like a cousin, their mothers were so close? Normally he bought them in Knoxville, simply because that was where he had sex.

He didn't want to make a big thing in Holywell about being gay. No one gave him grief, but buying condoms from the town's main store would not go unnoticed. He wondered if he would be having the same feelings if he were his brother. Sean was in a new relationship with a girl at college. No one would bat an eyelash if Sean bought condoms, right? Resolving to say the hell with it, he scooped his usual brand of condoms into the basket in various sizes, and quickly left the pharmacy aisle to grab the rest of what he needed. Five minutes later, with the condoms safely hidden for the time being under milk and bread, he joined the short queue at the only manned till; Gwen's till.

Jack was long gone, it seemed. So any condom purchase was going to be something Ianto could keep to himself if Jack only wanted dinner, or worse, friendship. When his turn came, he was lucky. There was no one behind him, and Gwen appeared distracted. She didn't hesitate when she scanned and bagged the small box.

Ianto paid, with a thank you, and very nearly made it away from the checkout with no talking at all.

"I'm gonna have to call for a restock on those," she said with a wink.

"Sorry?"

"Between you and the fire fighter, there'll be nothing left for the straight guys."

Ianto wasn't entirely sure how long he stood there with his mouth open, not knowing what to say. That had to have been Jack.

_Did he…would he…hell._

Mumbling something like a goodbye, Ianto left the shop at speed, and headed for the car. It was only when he shut the door that he let out the groan of embarrassment that had been stuck inside him.

Sometimes he hated living and working in a small town.


	13. hot stuff

SMUT

Jack glanced at his watch. Five-thirty. He needed to make a move if he was going to get a shower in before Ianto arrived at his place. Easy. Until, of course, his beeper went off. He turned off the oven. Then he was running out the door and heading for the station, skidding to a halt outside the building. Two other volunteers arrived at about the same time.

"House fire, all occupants out, need us for backup."

The next few hours were a blur. The house, a large stilted place on the side of the mountain, wasn't easy to reach. The fire was contained to one area, but that didn't make it any easier. The surrounding trees were fall-damp, but the two crews wet down the surrounding area just in case, and finally, at just past nine, everything was under control, and the crew from Holywell were making their way back to town. Some of the biggest problems around this town were the inclines and the twisted roads, and getting down to Holywell took another forty minutes.

Jack guessed the window for dinner was over and wasn't surprised when there was no trace of Ianto at his place. As if the man would sit on the small porch waiting?

W _hat is in your head, Jack?_

"Heard you got called out." The voice was clear behind him, and Jack spun on his heel with a smile on his face.

"Structure fire," Jack confirmed.

"So they said. Three fires in a week—what are the odds of that? It's out my way on the mountain, and I know what a fucker it is to get to the houses there. Like I said, I'm way high, and one day you'll have to come see the view from my porch, then we can climb to the peak." The invitation hung in the air with an anticipatory moment of silence.

"Anyway, I still have an hour, unless you're too tired?" Ianto held up bags. "I brought takeout, thinking you might be hungry."

Jack was hungry all right, but it wasn't exactly for food…and where the hell had that cliché come from?

He opened the door and stood to one side. "Come on in."

Ianto smiled and moved past him. The scent of Chinese food edged its way past the smell of smoke in Jack's nose, and his stomach rumbled. There was a small Chinese restaurant next to the mayor's office, and he'd smelled the tempting scents since he'd started working there. Toeing off his sneakers, he followed Ianto and shut the door behind them. They had an hour. A whole hour.

Ianto switched on a light in the kitchen and placed the bags on the side. He turned to Jack with an expectant smile. "Plates?"

Jack could no more ignore Ianto in his kitchen than he could remember where the plates were. Maybe it was the fire; maybe it was because it had been too long since he'd been intimate with anyone—whatever it was, he didn't want food. Two steps, and he had the sexy man in his arms and pressed back against the work surface. The other man was as eager as he was to taste and learn—just as needy.

Ianto's hands twisted behind Jack's head, and fingers raked, his hair, it was all Jack could do not to push Ianto into the, bedroom.

After all, despite the cashier at the store smirking at him, he'd bought enough condoms to last some time. Standing there and kissing, Jack subtly shifted his centre of gravity so Ianto could feel exactly what effect he had on him.

Ianto groaned low in his throat and tilted his head to deepen the kiss. Everything was fast and rough and right-here-right-now, and Jack could have sworn he could get off just on this touch. Moving slightly, he snaked his hands from where they rested on Ianto's hips to cup his ass, and with a small lift they were aligned and pressed hard to each other.

How easy would it be to lose himself in these kisses?

This was a breath-stealing ride, and he began to move as the embrace grew more heated. One of Ianto's hands pushed between them, fumbling with clothing, their lips never separating, and Ianto succeeded in getting his fingers on Jack's skin.

Jack inhaled sharply. Just the touch of those fingers on him was enough to drive him wild. Ianto had loosened his own jeans, and Jack reached for skin, pushing past his shorts and rubbing a finger from ass cheek to where he wanted to be inside. There was a heat building in him to bend Ianto over and rub himself off on the man in his arms.

Ianto released the kiss and tilted his head back, exposing his throat and moaning at Jack's light touch. Fuck. Ianto was so responsive. Releasing his hold on Jack's dick, Ianto pushed him away, and they stood momentarily frozen and breathing heavily. Ianto pushed his jeans down below his arse and turned to face the counter.

"Do it—get us off," Ianto ordered.

Jack almost lost it there and then. This guy—slim, muscled and gorgeous—was leaning on the counter, exposing his plump arse and ordering Jack to get on with it. Jack considered condoms, but there wasn't time for everything he wanted to do to Ianto Jones. With way less than an hour to go and smelling of fire, this wasn't the right place for the first time. Sue him, but he wanted the first time to be after he'd brought Ianto to the edge so many times the younger guy was begging. He pushed his own jeans down, then took that single step and rearranged Ianto, so he was slightly away from the counter.

Everything Jack wanted was here, and within seconds he had his hand wrapped around the length of his new lover, and he was pressed flat against Ianto's arse. In time with his breathing and in counterpoint to the slide of his hand up and down Ianto's heavy cock, Jack pressed himself into the space between his arse cheeks. Pushing Ianto's shirt up and out of the way, he tasted heated skin with his tongue, tracing the bumps of Ianto's spine and stopping at each one to lick and bite. God, how he wanted to be inside Ianto, but he wasn't letting that happen today. Not now. _Tomorrow… the day after, fuck…soon…_ He was so far gone he couldn't hold back, but they hadn't set any rules, talked safety, switching… shit, nothing that would make this planned. Everything was emotion and want. Setting up the rhythm, listening to Ianto begging for more, for harder, for faster, had Jack close in minutes.

Pressing, pushing, sliding between Ianto's gorgeous arse and his thighs, and suddenly orgasm stole Jack's breath, and he was coming hot and wet on Ianto's lower back.

For a second, he stood as waves washed over him, and he gasped at the intensity of the sensation.

"Jack…" Ianto's voice was dripping with need, and he hadn't come yet.

In one smooth movement, despite the post-orgasm lethargy, Jack turned Ianto around and moved him, so he was sitting on the counter. Everything was within reach.

Ianto had his eyes closed and his head thrown back. He stroked his hands along the length of himself.

"Don't touch," Jack tried to order him. "Please," he added.

His voice didn't sound like his, broken and panting. He wanted to get Ianto off here. _He_ wanted to be the one who milked Ianto of everything he could give.

Ianto groaned but let his hold go, and Jack bent his head and swallowed Ianto to the curls at the base of his dick.

He gagged at the weight of Ianto's dick on his tongue and touching his throat, but it felt just right. So long since he'd curved his tongue around the shape of a man—too long. Ianto cursed above him, stiffened, then slumped into Jack's support, unable to hold back. "Fuck—I'm—Jack—off—" Ianto was a jumble of curse words and warnings, and Jack did what he'd been told. He replaced his mouth with his hands, Ianto's heavy dick obscenely wet and hard. Jack stood and stole open-mouthed kisses that were nothing more than a duel for power. Each move of his hand was base to tip. He dipped his finger into the slit, just a small touch, and Ianto was yelling his release.

Ianto gasped and lost it over Jack's hand, his shirt, and his belly, groans swallowed in a final kiss.

Breathing heavily, they slumped together, and the only thing holding Jack up was the counter. Ianto's breathing was a little harsh, and Jack suddenly regretted that he'd been so unforgiving and forceful. Fuck, Ianto had just been released from the hospital.

"Fuck, are you okay?" Jack asked.

"Okay?" Ianto repeated the question with a dazed expression.

"Ianto, your chest—"

"I'm…" Ianto's voice tailed off as his stomach rumbled. They looked down like they could see the space where the food should be.

Jack glanced at the clock on the microwave. Ten thirty six. He leaned in, taking one last kiss, then took a deliberate step back to grab the kitchen towel. He dampened a part of the towel, then very carefully wiped Ianto clean, turning him around so he could deal with it all. The tails of Ianto's shirt were damp, and Jack grimaced at the fact that Ianto would have to deal with that all night. Had he been too rough, with Ianto only just having come out of the hospital?

He must have said some of that out loud, because Ianto turned and grasped his hand.

"I'm fine. No fire damage, and I can handle a wet shirt. Okay?" Ianto's words were soft but insistent.

Jack could have sworn there was more in his tone than what he could hear, given that he was post-coital, exhausted and hungry. He filed away the reaction for later thought and instead crossed to the cabinet that held the plates. Pulling out two, he scooped some noodles and chicken onto one. He slipped it in the microwave, and a few minutes later, Ianto was eating the tolerably hot Chinese and staring at Jack with a watchful, heavy-lidded gaze.

"That was…" now Jack was the one lost for words.

"Hot." Ianto finished the sentence through a mouthful of noodles.

"Do-gain," he added. Jack filled in the blanks.

"I'm at home tomorrow if you want to come over when you've caught up on sleep after your shift." There. He'd laid it all out for Ianto, exposed his soft underbelly in the hope he wouldn't laugh him out of town.

Ianto looked thoughtful but didn't answer until he'd swallowed the mouthful. "I could sleep here," he said simply.

Hope exploded in Jack's chest. Ianto wasn't dismissing the idea, nor was he laughing. "Maybe we could talk some before sleep," Ianto added.

"Talking is good," Jack said gently. Guilt at how he had nearly forced a reaction from Ianto clenched in his gut.

Ianto clearly picked up on the emotion and pushed his empty plate away. Leaning in, they exchanged a noodle flavoured kiss.

"Talking is good," Ianto said. He got up from the table to put his plate in the sink. "But not nearly as good as talking _after_ you bent me over your counter and made me feel like my blood was on fire."

With that, leaving Jack speechless, Ianto refastened his tie and left the house. He closed the door behind him, and Jack stood rooted to the spot for a good five minutes.

Fuck, he was so hard again.

Ianto was like a drug, and hell, Jack? He was an addict.


	14. frying pan or fire?

Ianto arrived back at the mayor's office and let himself in with the code. Drew was sitting at the small reception desk, peering at the screen of his computer and frowning.

This, in Ianto's experience, meant the guy was either working on reports or playing Solitaire—either activity produced frowns of amazing proportions across his brow.

"Hey, Drew," he said.

Drew looked up, blinked, then smiled.

"Cavalry's arrived," he said. He stood and leaned over to log his identity out of the PC.

"Is Toshiko here?" Ianto asked.

"Out the back making good use of the mayor's behemoth coffee machine."

"Just in time, then." That and working in the same building as Jack, was possibly the only upside to the station burning down. Yes, they might be sharing one borrowed PC; yes, they might have lost most of their paperwork, and yes, they were sharing two desks between all of them, but at the end of the day, they had coffee.

"Anything I should know?"

Handing over was so much more informal in Holywell. Back at his first posting, in Knoxville, and wet behind the ears, a handover had meant signing papers and dotting the I's and crossing the T's; it had been routine and structured. Here, despite there being a definite organization, there was room for a much less official handover.

"Duncan is on the move again. Brenda McMillan said there was something happening around the cabin. Lots of banging. She went over to check it out, found him wandering the yard in just his shorts and looking twenty sheets to the wind."

"When was this?"

"A little before four p.m., but we haven't had any calls out to pick up his sorry ass."

"Anything else?"

"Reports dropped off on the fire, scene analysis and the boss had a meeting with the fire guys about possible scenarios and responsibilities. It's all in the logs."

Ianto smiled. He couldn't stop himself. His body was still buzzing from what had happened in Jack's kitchen, and the thought of the sexy fire fighter being involved in anything remotely connected to Ianto made him want to smile.

Drew narrowed his gaze.

"Something you wanna tell me, Jones?" he asked.

Ianto shook his head. He wasn't ready to share Jack with anyone yet. "You driving past the cabins on your way home?"

Standard procedure in all things Duncan Gerald, was to drive past the place when he was at his worst. None of the cops complained about doing so. A small town meant everyone was intimately involved in what everyone else did. Duncan and his demons included. Something had gone down in his past. He'd left as a soldier in the eighties and returned home a broken man who'd aged dramatically and lost all grip on what was real. Ianto couldn't imagine the memories that rode the man to self-destruction, but they couldn't be good.

"Yeah, I'll check it out as usual." Grabbing his jacket from the hook near the exit he let himself out of the coded door, and Ianto watched his fellow man disappear down the road.

"White, two sugars," Toshiko announced behind him.

Gratefully, Ianto took the offered caffeine and smiled his thanks.

"Duncan isn't having a good day again," she said as she slid into the seat Drew had just left.

"So I heard."

"Sue switched, so she's in at four a.m."

"Okay."

"And the reports from the fire guys are on the desk to look at."

She peered at the screen in front of her and, drinking down her coffee, lost herself in _Days of Our Lives_ and associated soaps. Everyone had to kill the dead hours in one way or another. Normally Ianto read, but tonight he wanted to see what the fire guys had on the case. Settling at the other desk and squirming to get comfortable, he opened the file and began to read.

Two a.m. came and went, three was missed entirely, and Ianto only registered four because Sue, one of the three shifted dispatchers, came in with warm bagels and a cheery smile despite the time.

"You're looking serious," she said. "Did you get called out to Duncan?"

"Drew went to check him out. Called in and said it was all quiet. I was reading the Department reports on the fire and researching online."

"It's fallen into our lap, then?" she asked as she wandered towards the coffee.

Since the machine was in the next room, Ianto kept talking. "Nothing else they can do. It was arson, which was obvious. They've pinpointed the location and burn patterns, and given a quick behavioural profile to back up what we're looking for."

"Coffee," Sue said, and placed the mug to his right. Ianto concentrated on his research. If someone wanted revenge on one of the cops at the station or within the attached clinic, that meant he was one of the potential targets, which didn't sit well with him.

Drew had been there too, as had Toshiko. The three of them, plus Duncan, were all the firebug could have been aiming at.

If the firebug was local, then he would have known there as always one man and one dispatcher on site. No one could have had any inkling that at the particular time of the fire, Ianto and Duncan would be there as well. Shifts were easy to ascertain in a town this size, so that left Ianto focusing on Drew and Toshiko and any cases that touched or linked them. Technically, it could have been any and all cops the bug was fixing on, but Ianto would concentrate on that avenue first.

The result was a very thin folder of information.

Statistically, any case touched each of them, but there were a couple that stood out. Drew had been called to some kids playing with fireworks. Another case where both he and Drew had become involved in the execution of a care order to take the Simmons' kids into care—two boys, eight and ten. Ianto as lead, Drew assisting. The Simmons family was yet another dropped stitch in the rich tapestry of a small town. Mother and father both with their drug problems, two kids caught in the middle. Drew was the one who'd restrained the dad, held him tight and threatened to arrest him when he'd resisted. Maybe the guy was holding a grudge.

"Does Toshiko ever talk to you about her nephew?" Ianto asked Sue.

"That idiot boy Brad or Chad or something? The one with the fireworks? Toshiko was mortified when he was brought in. What that kid needs is a smack upside the head and a look at what damage he could have done letting off fireworks in a school hall."

"I may pay him a visit later today." Sunday meant no school, and hopefully, he would catch their firework-playing idiot at home with his family.

"You think it's linked?"

"God knows, but we need to be taking this arson seriously. I also want to check in on the Simmons'. That's the only two out-of-the-ordinary cases that have hit our desks over the last month or so. Tracking back later than that makes me think, why now? Why did the arsonist choose now to fire the station? So I thought I'd start with the most recent stuff."

Once the decision was made as to what he was planning to fit in around seeing Jack later today, he could concentrate a little more on Jack himself. Just thinking about the erotic experience in the kitchen was enough to get Ianto hard and ready. Checking his watch, he could see it was nearing six a.m. The shift ended and handover done, including what he'd researched and what he proposed, he left the mayor's office and started home.

Ianto had said he would sleep at Jack's, but he needed a shower first; it wasn't exactly fair to drag his grungy ass over there this early in their relationship.

_Relationship?_

Was that where his thoughts were? He didn't know Jack. Apart from the whole big, strapping hero complex he had going on.

Shower first, then he would grab coffee and breakfast at the diner and take it on over. Hell, he could be there by eight. Ianto drove home, showered, then dressed in civilian clothes.

He climbed back into his truck and began to make his way down the mountain back to the town. The sun hung low in a cloudless sky, and the trees were beginning to turn for fall. Driving on the empty roads was easy. The truck had felt odd on the way up, and his resolve to get a mechanic to check it out became more imperative as the pedals became spongier on the way down. Each press of the brakes felt more ineffective, and he had to downshift at every bend. The damn mountain was hell on brakes and tires, and there was no real run-off that he could manoeuvre into.

 _Piece of shit truck_.

Ianto pulled up at a three-way stop and waited for a clear view. For a split second, he hesitated—stopping there to check the brakes would be stupid, and he couldn't justify blocking the blind bends that ended at this point. When the coast was clear he carefully, and very slowly, moved out and began the last leg of the journey, the steepest part that ended right outside the flats of town.

Ianto was only halfway down the mountain when he touched the brakes and found nothing—no response at all.

He was fucked. This wasn't a small problem—this was serious. His speed climbed. Twenty, thirty, forty. There was no way he was going to make the bends at this speed. He pressed and released the brakes, his eyes going from speedometer to the road.

Nothing was working. Instinct had him wanting to engage the handbrake, but he knew if he did that the steering could lock up and he'd lose control. The next bend had a softer runoff into the stream.

There was nothing for it.

He had to deliberately crash his truck.


	15. crunch

Jack was just getting out of the shower and pulling on clothes when his cell rang. He answered and listened as the chief gave him the lowdown. A car was off the highway into the stream that followed Valley Road; any available men should attend if at all possible. There wasn't the incredible urgency of a more serious situation, but still, Jack knew he would be going. He tried Ianto's cell, but it went to voicemail, so he left a message then placed a sticky note on his door with the message that Ianto should try calling.

As he drove to the scene, more details came over his radio. There were no casualties but the driver was trapped, and they needed to get some equipment to get him out. Paramedics were en route.

The CB crackled. "Victim's name is Ianto Jones…"

Jack didn't hear the rest of the dispatch as panic and fear hit him mid-chest. He put his foot down to get where Ianto had come off the road. He felt responsible for the sexy man, and pushed aside the feeling of fear that coiled inside him thinking about what he could find at the scene. He had to treat this scene as he would any other, and losing himself in the role of wannabe lover was exactly what he shouldn't be doing.

Hell, he wanted to see how in blazes Ianto had managed to crash. He knew these roads. Everyone had told Jack that Ianto was one of the locals who'd lived here forever. If anyone knew the road, it should be him. How had he crashed? What had happened? Surely Ianto was going to be okay.

When he came to the scene, a couple of the guys had already arrived with the rig and were standing knee-deep in water carrying on a conversation with Ianto inside the truck. The paramedics were on site, effectively blocking the road. No skid marks?

"You're not cutting my damn truck," Jack heard Ianto shouting from inside the vehicle.

Jack wasn't dressed for this, but it didn't stop him from jumping the bank and into the clear mountain water. Wading to the truck, he could see that somehow the whole thing had made it down the mountain fairly much in one piece, and looked like it had been parked deliberately in the water.

One of Jack's fellow fire fighters was pleading with Ianto. "Don't be stupid. You can't get out unless we release the door."

Jack confirmed this opinion with a quick glance The height of the truck had been compacted. Damn, the landing must have been brutal. Going round to the other window, he stayed back where Ianto wouldn't catch sight of him in his peripheral vision and glanced in and down. He felt sick. This was way worse than a parked truck. It appeared that all they needed to do was to cut the doors and Ianto could climb out, but it was obvious from the state of the cabin that wasn't happening anytime soon.

Windows free or not, Ianto wasn't going anywhere, and from the amount of blood darkening his jeans, this was way more serious than just being stuck. Ianto's legs were twisted under the engine and dash, and he couldn't move.

Pushing back his fear, Jack took charge of the scene. It would be up to him to calm Ianto down then get him out of the truck so the paramedics could deal with him.

"Is his blood pressure okay?" Jack asked quietly of the two men he recognized from town.

One of them nodded. Decision made to try to get this stubborn man to see what was happening; Jack walked around the front of the truck. The whole thing had come to rest against a large boulder, and the front was crushed in, hence the engine sliding down and back and forcing the dash onto Ianto's legs.

Ianto watched him walk around the truck, but nothing in his expression gave away any connection. If anything, Ianto's eyes were fixed firmly on Jack's journey to the window, and his face was blank. The two other fire fighters stood back as Jack muscled his way in.

"Fuck, Ianto," he said carefully.

"They wanna cut my truck," Ianto said. His words were clear, his eyes bright and he didn't seem pale, and for a second Jack had hope that the man he wanted to call lover was perfectly fine.

"They have to." Jack reached in through the open window and pressed a hand gently to Ianto's knee. When he lifted his hand showing his bloodied palm, Ianto paled in response. "We need to get you out. Your legs are compressed, and we won't know what's there until we can get you out. Ianto? Look at me, Ianto."

Ianto looked up from examining his knees, and there was considerably less colour on his face.

"The brakes didn't work," Ianto said softly.

Jack filed that fact away and stepped to one side while a paramedic checked Ianto's vitals. Then the fire fighters took over. In less than thirty minutes, Ianto was free of the dash, and in a few seconds more he was out and on a stretcher. He was pale but talking, and Jack held back a little, caught between discussing the car and finding out what injuries Ianto had sustained. Relief cut through him when he saw that the damage wasn't as bad as his worst nightmares had him imagining. The blood was copious, but that was from cuts above Ianto's knees, and he could move his toes.

Moving Ianto wouldn't be a compression drama where removing the obstruction led to the victim bleeding out.

"Jack?" Ianto called him over, and the paramedics waited patiently when Jack leaned in.

"Think I'm gonna be sleeping in the hospital today," Ianto said. He smiled as he said it.

"I guess so," Jack responded with as much calm as he could muster.

"Rain check?"

The paramedics began the careful climb to get Ianto and themselves up out of the water to the rig.

Jack smiled at Ianto. "Rain check sweetie."


	16. tired of the cock-blocking man!

Jack was way past pissed and on to murderous. The mechanic didn't hold back on his assessment of what was sitting in his bay.

"The brake line was cut partway. The more Mister Jones used the brakes, the less fluid there was ultimately leading to complete failure."

"How did the brake line became damaged?"

The mechanic looked up at him from his crouch. "In my experience, this type of damage can be nothing but deliberate, but we'll need to get it evaluated independently. I'm not an expert in this, so you may want to call the cops and update them ASAP. I'll put through my official report as well."

With a curt nod and a single word of thanks, Jack had his cell out and connected through to the department. They were aware that Ianto had been in an accident, but it would shake them to find out he had been deliberately targeted. This made it clearer though. Two attempts with one person as the common denominator? Someone wanted Ianto Jones dead.

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

Ianto hated hospitals as much as the people working in hospitals hated him. Not only had he been forced to lie on a bed to be poked and prodded, but also the nurse next to his bed was pissed at him. It didn't help that she was friends with his mom and had changed his diapers when he was a kid. Sometimes small towns sucked.

"If you move, I will inject you with a muscle relaxant."

"Then stop hurting me," Ianto snapped, irritated.

She was forcing him to bend then relax his left knee, the more injured of the two and it freaking hurt.

"Suck it up, Jones," she said with no small amount of impatience. "You got nothing more than scratches here."

Ianto wouldn't call two-inch gouges in the meaty part above his knees scratches. There had been blood. A lot of blood. He closed his eyes as he remembered Jack lifting his hand, which had been tipped scarlet. Fuck. He felt sick, and a wave of shock hit him. He was pretty ticked off with being injured and in the hospital, and what the hell was wrong with his truck?

"Ianto?" Torture Nurse was saying his name. This time, though, her voice sounded different—like she was talking from a distance. "Ianto."

She poked him hard in his stomach, and Ianto snapped his eyes open.

"Ouch," he said with an awful lot of force behind the words.

He wanted to tell her to leave him alone, but then he was a polite, well-brought-up boy who respected his elders. She poked him again. He very nearly poked her back.

Someone knocked on the door, and Ianto groaned. He'd already had his mom in, his brother on the phone, and the entire man staff in asking questions. No, he didn't remember anyone near his truck. No, he couldn't remember the brakes feeling bad yesterday. What did they want him to say?

The door opened, and six-feet-whatever of Jack Harkness, in jeans and a T-shirt, filled the entrance.

"There," his torturer said cheerfully. "All bandaged, and you have a visitor."

Ianto glared up at her, but when she bent over and dropped a kiss on his forehead, he melted inside.

"He's been making a nuisance of himself wanting to get in. I like him, Ianto," she whispered. Collecting her things, she left the room and very deliberately let Jack in and then closed the door.

"Hey," Jack said, "Heard you're okay."

"The vastus medialus or something like that, both sides bruised, and the skin is cut quite deep, but I'll live." Ianto shrugged off the damage and the pain and upped the positive spin on the fact that he would likely be using crutches for a week, then need physical therapy for some time after.

"Jesus, Ianto," Jack said simply. "How many more times have I got to pull your ass out the fire?"

Ianto hesitated. Jack was clearly trying for light-hearted, but there was an edge to what he was saying.

"Or water," Ianto said.

 _Keep it light. All we've done is kiss and had one meet-up for hot sex. Nice but nothing serious_.

"Don't joke about this. Someone is clearly trying to hurt you." Jack took a step closer, and then stopped. He looked way past uncomfortable, and Ianto immediately got it. Jack wasn't sure what the hell to say.

It was a moment that Ianto saw could start something or finish something. What would he do? Laugh it off, pull back, do his standard avoidance thing? Or should he break through years of male conditioning and be honest?

"Thank you for attending the scene. I know they didn't call the off the clockers in." He paused. How did he phrase this? "I wanted you there."

 _Christ._ Now he sounded like an idiot. But he was only being honest. He _had_ wanted Jack there.

Jack closed his eyes, and Ianto's heart sank. That was not the reaction he'd wanted, but to be fair, it was probably what he'd expected.

Jack opened his eyes again, their blue depths troubled and sparking with emotion. He took the final two steps to the side of Ianto's bed, then perched himself on the edge. Ianto scooted over a little and didn't feel a thing, since the meds had kicked in and dulled everything to a pleasurable nothingness. Jack placed a hand flat on Ianto's chest and nodded. He was evidently having an internal conversation with himself.

"When I heard your name on the call…" He paused.

"Uh-huh," Ianto encouraged. There was still no real indication of what was going on in Jack's head.

"I didn't like it," Jack finished with a sigh.

Ianto cautiously placed his hand over Jack's and was rewarded when Jack held his hand palm up and entwined his fingers with Ianto's. There were no more words, and for a short while Ianto contemplated what to do or say. He didn't want to break the intensity of Jack's blue gaze or scare him away. What he _really_ wanted was a kiss. That would be a good test—a man couldn't always get where he wanted with pretty words and declarations of need.

Ianto had to show Jack.


	17. the boys cock-block again

Lifting their joined hands, he tugged until their hands lay, still entwined, on the pillow next to Ianto's head. The subtle shift meant Jack was pulled forward and his body rested slightly on Ianto's chest. With his other hand, Ianto reached up and curled his fingers into Jack's hair, and with a gentle tug, he encouraged Jack to lean further. There was no resistance. Jack allowed Ianto to guide him into a kiss.

When their lips touched, it was like a match to paper—incendiary and immediate. The taste of Jack was every bit as good as Ianto remembered and he took his fill.

Jack deepened the kiss and Ianto was lost. Jack removed Ianto's hand from his hair, pushing it to next to Ianto's head. Pinned to the bed by Jack's hands and the firm weight of him, Ianto was seriously close to soiling the hospital sheets without a single touch to his dick.

Jack shifted and deepened the kiss, and there was desperation in the action. Ianto suddenly felt lightheaded and whimpered low in his throat.

Jack immediately released the kiss and looked a little abashed. "Sorry," he said. "Got carried away."

Ianto wasn't letting him get away without a fight, and he chased the kiss. Jack chuckled— the bastard—and continued the heated embrace.

"Well, this is new," a voice filled with laughter said behind them. "I don't remember getting this service when I had my appendix removed."

Ianto groaned, and Jack pulled back. Not a quick jerk away, but slow, with a hint of resignation. He dropped a final, gentle kiss on Ianto's lips, then released his hold on Ianto's hands.

Ianto felt immediately bereft, and having Kieran at the door, with— _fuck_ —Daniel right behind him, didn't stop him wanting Jack right back against him.

"Kieran Saxon," Kieran introduced himself. He held out a hand to shake Jack's. "And you must be the tall, drk and gorgeous fire fighter."

Ianto groaned. _Please stop now._ "Kieran—"

"I normally answer to Jack," Jack said with a smile.

"Daniel McMillan."

 _God. Daniel_.

Jack was going to take one look at the former marine, high school quarterback, and all-around bad boy, and that would be it—Ianto was so out of the picture.

"Was just visiting my man here," Jack said simply. Possessively.

Ianto blinked at the words. Even Kieran was quiet. Kieran "I have words for every occasion" Saxon was quiet. Would wonders never cease?

"Is he okay?" Daniel finally said. He approached the bed and, for some reason known only to Daniel, poked at the bandages.

The meds must have been wearing off, as Ianto felt the poke.

"Fuck, Daniel," he rasped.

"Stop prodding the patient," Kieran admonished. He pulled up a chair.

"You don't need to stay," Ianto said instantly. He was aware he sounded rude, but the first rule of the Fridays was that if a member was with a man, then they were left the hell alone. Of course, in the six months they'd been meeting, Ianto was the first to try the whole proposition of having a man.

"What happened?" Daniel asked seriously.

Ianto knew that tone well. It was Marine-speak for "Who do I kill?" He'd only heard it once before, when some young kid from town had taken Daniel's mom's car on a joyride up and down the mountain. The scared-as-shit teenager wasn't likely ever to do anything similar to that again. Not with the threat of Daniel "I'm bad" McMillan on his tail.

"Someone cut his brake line," Jack responded, matching Daniel's serious tone.

Ianto waited for Daniel and Kieran's reaction. He didn't have to wait long. Kieran was all " _What the fuck?"_ and Daniel slipped well and truly into kill mode. Great. So much for quiet time and some more of that toe-curling kissing.

"Guys?" Ianto tried to interrupt the discussion, which ranged from killing people—Daniel—to a house-to-house search—Kieran—to putting Ianto in his cabin and locking him in until the cops had caught the bad guys—Jack.

"Guys!" Finally, his voice was strident enough to break through the talking, and everyone stared at him expectantly.

"Are you tired?" Jack said.

That was the straw that broke the camel's back. With an irritated huff, Ianto struggled to sit up on the bed, Jack hovering solicitously at his side, and Kieran standing there with his hands out like he was going to catch Ianto if he fell.

Daniel watched with a smirk on his face. The fucker.

"I'm not staying in tonight. I need one of you to take me to the mayor's office so I can check in and then drive me home. I need someone else to find out where my damn truck is."

Kieran looked concerned and doubtful. "You're not staying in the hospital?"

"It's not that bad. Get me out of here."

Daniel immediately took charge.

"Three months in a hospital stateside before I left the Marines," he explained to Kieran who began to tease him about being controlling. "I understand the itch to get the hell out."

Kieran said nothing, only nodded that he understood.

"Jack, can you ferry Ianto around and get him home?"

Daniel asked. "Kieran and I can follow up on the truck, see what we can salvage."

Jack gazed down at Ianto, and Ianto saw nothing but determination in his gorgeous eyes—apparently he now had a personal chauffeur and bodyguard.

"Definitely."


	18. picking at the bones of it

The interview—because that was what it was—was a hard one. Chief Andrew Davidson, sometime companion to Daniel's mom, was in attendance, as were Drew and the other man on the books, Oscar. Jack simply sat back and watched while Ianto's colleagues interrogated him. That Ianto was the focus of some campaign against him was obvious, a firebug was one thing but someone deliberately cutting brake lines was something else entirely.

"So there's no obvious link, but we're concluding that the fire and the car are connected?" Jack asked.

"Too much of a coincidence for it not to be," Drew said. He was scribbling on a notepad and hadn't stopped the entire meeting.

"Tell me about the city," Jack said. They'd already covered Ianto's time here, but for a few years, he'd been away in college and then the University. "If it isn't here that you've attracted someone wanting to hurt you, then maybe it's way back when."

Ianto half closed his eyes and considered the question. "Normal boyfriend stuff in college. One guy, Neil, was an asshole. Nothing I couldn't handle, but he had this way about him that was just plain weird at times. Last I heard he was in Florida working at God knows what, and I wasn't with him long."

"You think he's the kind to try to hurt you?"

"God no, he was too busy checking himself out in the mirror to think about anyone else."

"But you said he was an awkward asshole."

"And possessive I guess, but Jesus, that was years ago now."

"Anyone else?"

"I don't go around making enemies." Ianto sounded pissed, but he wasn't levelling it all at the questions; this went deeper than that.

Jack pressed on. "Tell us about your work in London."

"Mainstream cases for the two years I was there. I narrowed it to two that could be causing trouble now, and they're local—the family and the kid with the fireworks."

"In your estimation, would either of those be grounds for murder?"

Murder sounded bad; if this was labelled as attempted murder, would Ianto become cautious and scared?

"No," Ianto snapped. "You know as well as I do that our job in this town is different to what a city man deals with. I wear many hats, we all do. We have a community here, and people still respect the cops and their affiliates. Look, can we finish this now? I need some space to think about what's happened."

"We'll pick this up tomorrow," Jack said. He'd heard and seen enough today to last a lifetime. His first instinct was to grab Ianto and hole up at home and wait this out.

Having someone he was beginning to care about was playing havoc with his ability to compartmentalize what was going on. They would be checking the ex with a history, the husband with the kids in care, and the dispatcher's nephew with the fireworks. There was nothing else they could do here.

Jack was pleased to see that Ianto's walking was easier.

Walk in a loose sense of the term. He was stiff-legged and jerky with his movements, but with Jack's help, they made their way to his truck. By mutual decision, Jack turned onto the mountain and headed up, following Ianto's directions to his place.

As they pulled into Ianto's driveway, Jack was struck by the beauty of the house surrounded by trees. It was as remote as the house Jack had attended for a structure fire the night before. A two-floor cottage set back into the mountain with the front on sturdy stilts and the rest supported by unmoving metal and stone. A porch area overlooked the tips of tall pine trees clad in wood. Jack's inner fire fighter wished it weren't wood, and his inner lover agreed, but he had to admit the house fitted Ianto's personality to a T.

"This was my parents' place, but they moved away, and I inherited it early. Actually, it belongs to me and my brother Sean, but he's at college," Ianto said, fumbling with the keys.

Jack finally took them from him and opened the front door. The darkness inside had him blinking after the daylight until at last, he could make out the interior.

Very much Ianto. Simple, sturdy, and pretty. Everything was tidy and placed just so. A great room opened onto a kitchen, with a dining table further in. Ianto excused himself to use the bathroom and told Jack to look around. He did, his fire fighter's eye picking out escape routes. His "potential partner's eye" picked up no sign of anyone else in the house.

"There's beer in the fridge," Ianto said as he hobbled from the bathroom and made his way to the kitchen.

Jack waylaid him halfway there and placed a hand flat on his chest. "Sit. I'm technically on call. I'll make coffee."

He found everything to make coffee, then moved back into the main room with mugs in hand.

Finally next to each other on the large, red, wood-framed sofa, they sipped the hot brew in silence. Jack wondered what was going through Ianto's head. Twice in the space of a week he'd been trapped somewhere—it couldn't be a good place inside his thoughts.

"Tell me about this guy at college," Jack said. He only asked for something to say, but when Ianto cast him a "What the fuck?" look, Jack backed down. "Sorry," he said.

"Nah, I haven't thought about him in a long time. Happened way back and I haven't seen him in years. The whole mess put me off relationships for a while. Well, actually, more than a while. I've not dived in head-first since. Not until you."

Jack's chest tightened. They were so much the same. He hadn't had a solid relationship. Not one he wanted to invest time in, and he was six or seven years older than Ianto. Being gay and having a partner when you were in the world of first responders wasn't easy. Maybe Holywell would be different. Ianto was certainly out, and Jack wasn't exactly closeted— just careful of the people he told.

"In the city, when I was training and where I was stationed, I had some real shit laid on me," Jack said bluntly.

"For being gay?"

"And then some. For being a big guy who was gay, for being a guy who liked football who was gay, for being a fire fighter who was gay. Being gay defined me in so many people's eyes."

"I was lucky. I'm not saying Holywell doesn't have its share of bigots, but everyone has known about me for a long time. I have more supporters here than critics, and it's a good life."

Silence hung in the air as Jack digested this.

"How are you feeling?" Jack asked. He itched to touch Ianto, but he wouldn't if Ianto was in pain. He just craved the touch that meant his man was okay. He hadn't been lying to Ianto's friends—he wanted more with Ianto, and identifying him as "his man" out loud was enough that Ianto would know now.

"Bit sore and I probably need to take a nap," Ianto said.

Jack pushed aside the need for connection and instead stood and offered a hand to help Ianto stand up. Their hands stayed entwined when Ianto was solidly standing and, with a gentle tug, Ianto pulled Jack with him.

"I need my man to come lie down with me," Ianto said mischievously. With a smile that could topple the strongest man's resolve, he sat on the edge of the queen-size bed covered in a navy blue comforter. "I'll need some help getting these scrubs off, since the hospital cut my jeans to shreds again."

Jack immediately crouched next to Ianto and helped him to wriggle out of the loose pants. He was suddenly faced with a very obvious bulge inches from his face and only a thin cotton barrier stopping him from seeing what he'd tasted the day before.

Just that thought—the single idea that he had tasted Ianto—brought everything flooding back. Ianto. The fire. The accident that wasn't an accident.

He climbed onto the bed next to Ianto and guided him back into his arms.

Ianto yawned widely and settled back on the pillows. He cuddled into Jack, who held on tight.

Jack would look after this man until any danger was over. It was that simple. He just needed to push emotions that weakened him to one side and concentrate on keeping Ianto safe.

Easy. Ianto would understand.


	19. FINALLY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smuttttttttt

 

By the end of the week, Ianto was going stir-crazy. Jack was staying at his place when work at the mayor's office was over, and there had been no emergency callouts.

Well, nothing apart from a small fire at the diner, attributed to a build-up of grease and a sneaky smoke by a staff member. That had been the sum of the excitement in Holywell, and Ianto was _this close_ to losing it.

He'd been back at work for two days, but felt the itch of irritation under his skin. He wasn't sure if it was Jack keeping his distance, or that there were no leads in the case of the person who wanted to kill him—if indeed that was real—or whether he spent most of his time around Jack hard and wanting.

Jack's voice and proximity were enough to send blood south, and he was fine—sore, but his legs were fine. This was ridiculous. Hell, he'd resorted to walking naked from kitchen to bathroom, but there was nothing. Not even a glimmer in Jack's eyes.

People had taken to looking at him with pity—"Poor guy, trapped in a fire, then crashes his truck. Clearly, he needs looking after." He refrained from pointing out that he was totally freaking fine.

Then Friday happened.

Ianto took his turn hosting the regular meet-up. Kieran arrived first and made himself at home, grabbing beer and chips and slumping on the sofa. Ianto chose his seat, and the throaty roar of the Ducati heralded Daniel's arrival.

Evidently, Daniel arriving was some kind of unspoken nod that Jack should leave, and making some crap God-awful excuse for needing to be in the office, he left. Not even with a kiss or a hug, or anything remotely affectionate except a goodbye.

Daniel and Kieran exchanged glances.

Damn it, if they didn't move out of reach, they were well on course for getting the brunt of Ianto's agitation.

"He said he didn't want to interrupt," Daniel said.

"We told him it was fine," Kieran added.

In a smooth movement that belied some of the stiffness in his legs, Ianto threw open the front door.

Jack turned around midway to his car, surprise showing on his face.

"Get in the house," Ianto pleaded.

Jack stood still for a second. "Ianto—"

"Enough words. I want you to know my friends."

Jack shrugged, squared his shoulders, came back up the four steps and stopped in front of Ianto, who blocked the doorway. Ianto reached up and twisted his hands together behind Jack's neck.

Pulling him down, he whispered, "Meet the guys, then let's go to bed."

How Ianto managed not to climb Jack like a freaking tree at any given point in the evening, he didn't know.

Somehow he pulled it off, and they had a good night.

Neither Daniel nor Kieran showed any problems with an added Friday guy, and the four of them talked well into the night. It was only when midnight had passed that Daniel made excuses to leave and Kieran got the hint as well.

When Ianto shut the door behind them, and finally it was just him and Jack, the tension started to increase.

"Ianto…" Jack looked nervous. He dug his hands into his pockets.

"I'm fine," Ianto said. "My chest is fine; my knees are fine."

He stood and pressed himself against Jack. He twisted his fingers in Jack's hair.

"Don't make me kneel when I suck you off, though…" He deliberately tailed off, and Jack groaned.

That image was enough to get Jack moving. Within minutes, kissing and pulling and guiding each other, they were in the bedroom, and Ianto flicked on the sidelights.

"Lube, condoms—"

"Drawer—"

"Jesus…" Jack muttered.

He had Ianto pinned to the bed with his hands and chest, and Ianto wriggled in pleasure. He gripped the material of Jack's shirt hard and tugged him closer until it was bunched up under his arms. He couldn't wait to touch his skin, and tracked a pattern of caresses across his back and down his sides as Jack kissed him like there was nothing else they needed to do. Ianto slid his hands to his jeans and unzipped them.

"Off," he demanded.

Jack was quick to obey, standing and divesting himself of all his clothing. Ianto wriggled his jeans off, slipped off his shirt and boxers and nearly sighed at the completion of their naked bodies next to each other in something other than a comforting embrace.

Jack was hard and strong, and Ianto wanted to touch and taste more, and nothing was stopping him. Laughing, he pushed until he was lying on top of Jack, pinning him to the bed. Jack's muscles bunched and released beneath his touch. At any moment the bigger, stronger man would have the upper hand, but before that happened Ianto was prepared to take advantage. Kissing his way down past Jack's throat to his chest, he concentrated on the cinnamon-coloured hairless nubs.

When Jack bucked him up off the bed, he knew he'd found a pleasure point, and he licked and nibbled and sucked each nipple until Jack was incoherent and begging for a touch to his dick. Ianto could get with that program.

He kissed his way down acres of taut, toned skin and reached the start of Jack's treasure trail. The texture of it against his tongue was exciting, and he loved the insistent bump of Jack's dick next to his lips. Jack wanted Ianto's mouth on him—that was obvious. Ianto teased and kissed and licked and enjoyed his every plea.

"Please," Jack said. He twisted his hands into Ianto's hair and attempted to guide Ianto's movements.

Ianto kissed around and above and below but avoided the one thing Jack was demanding until the grip in his hair had gone past firm to painful. With a chuckle, he tasted Jack in one broad stroke of his tongue. Fuck, the scent and the sensation were overwhelming, and all ideas of teasing went out of the window. Taking him down in a long swallow, he had Jack incoherently babbling nonsense mixed in with curse words. Ianto felt powerful and in control.

"I want… fuck… my mouth on you…" Jack said, and Ianto wasn't going to deny him that.

He shifted his body to give Jack access to his dick, but nearly lost his insistent rhythm after Jack pulled him roughly to him and closed his lips around his cock. Hell, he was going to lose it, and he wanted Jack inside him. He reached diagonally to where he'd dropped the lube, and then pushed it up to Jack's. He closed his eyes and spread his legs a little wanting Jack's fingers in there—one, two; hell, anything—then he wanted Jack to fuck him into next week.

He felt the cool slippery lube and Jack's fingers as he pushed and explored. Jack kept on sucking, drawing his dick deeper each time. Unable to concentrate on what he was doing to Jack when he was driving Ianto to the edge, he released Jack and grabbed a condom. Rolling it expertly onto Jack's cock, Ianto whimpered in anticipation and consciously rocked himself from Jack's mouth to his fingers; then before it got too much, he was twisting around and away. If Jack didn't get on with fucking him soon, he was going to come just from touch alone.

Jack looked at him with a serious expression.

"What do you want, Ianto?" he said.

Ianto wasn't ready to stop and discuss it. It had been months since he'd done this. He wanted Jack to make him _feel_.

"In me," he said, his voice shaky.

Jack arranged him on his back, lifted and separated his legs, and pressed himself against Ianto's hole. With determination on his face, he pressed forward, and Ianto winced at the burn before Jack stopped.

"Ianto?"

"Not hurting me," he managed to grind out. "It's just been too long."

Jack held his position for a few seconds, then in one smooth move, he was in, seated to the hilt, a look of ecstasy on his face. Ianto had never seen anything so fucking perfect in his life. Jack set the rhythm—hard, fast, punishing. Ianto kept his eyes open the whole time and watched the expressions play on Jack's face. Jack curled over him, pegging his prostate on seemingly every pass. Ianto needed more contact and moved his hand to circle his dick. All he needed was just a bit more, just one more… stroke…just…

Jack captured his lips in a kiss, hot and wet and hard.

Connected as they were, Ianto's balls tightened, and he came harder than he ever remembered.

Jack stuttered in his movements, and he closed his eyes briefly then opened them wide, and Ianto could see the orgasm take Jack over the edge. Beautiful. They did a cursory cleanup, but what Ianto _really_ wanted was for them to curl together and fall asleep.

"That was…you're beautiful…" Jack whispered the praise against Ianto's hot skin.

"Thank you," Ianto murmured. "Thank you."


	20. fire

The noise of his cell ringing pulled Jack from sleep.

"House fire, occupants trapped," the dispatcher called. "We're second on site. Holywell Mountain Cabins."

"I'll drive there—I'm five out," Jack confirmed. "Holywell Cabins," he said to a waking Ianto.

"Daniel and his mom… Kieran…" Ianto said.

Jack was dressed and ready in seconds, and Ianto rolled out of bed with utter focus. Jack didn't consider waiting for him. A minute could be the difference between controlling a fire and letting it spread.

"I'll follow you there," Ianto said as Jack left the house.

Jack jumped the steps, climbed into his truck and gunned the engine. He headed up the mountain to where the cabins were, and he could see the glow in the sky well before he reached the entrance to the Holywell Resort.

That didn't bode well.

What he found was chaos. Two cabins were on fire.

There were maybe eight or nine others close by, and Jack's first instinct was that this fire could spread. There was a woman standing in shock in PJs and a blanket, being held by Daniel, Kieran next to them. Quickly, Jack pulled on his fire-retardant coat and pants, safety-toed boots, fire helmet with its shield and his SCBA, and listened for Lethgren's instructions.

No more than ten minutes had passed since the callout, but Jack could see it was too late to save the two wooden structures. He assisted the team and listened to the chatter. There was a body in the second cabin. By the time they got here, that cabin had been burning well, and there'd been no chance of getting to whoever the hell was inside. Bile rose in him—he'd seen enough death to have a healthy respect for it, but that didn't mean it didn't make him sick.

The other cabin was destroyed as well, but apparently the owner—it seemed to be Daniel's mom—had woken and managed to get out. It wasn't until they were putting up the hoses that he looked around to notice that Daniel, his mom, and Kieran had disappeared. He couldn't see Ianto either, and he assumed Ianto had taken the others to another cabin, or back to his house. This was a bad fire and Jack wouldn't want anyone to see what was in cabin one.

"Whose cabin is it?" asked one of the other volunteer guys. "Was it Duncan? Is he still in there?"

"He's out back. Jack, come back here," Lethgren called from the other side of the blackened shell of the cabin.

Jack crossed to where Lethgren stood, then looked down at the face of the man who'd stumbled out of the man building fire where he'd rescued Ianto. Duncan Gerald.

He wasn't burned. He wasn't even inside the house itself —he was dead from a bullet wound through his forehead, and his broken body had been left on the back porch.

Whoever had killed him—and it had to be murder—had set a fire to cover their tracks, maybe in the hope that the fire would destroy any evidence. The fire had spread, radiated to the other cabin, but the dead man remained untouched. The scene was still, and the smoke burned his nostrils. The destruction was absolute, and the coroners had arrived to remove the body. Their first reaction matched Jack's instinct. Duncan had been murdered with a bullet to the face before the fire had started. The fire damage to his body, what little there was, had been post-mortem.

So much destruction. There wasn't just a firebug to deal with; this was murder.

.

.

.

.

Daniel's cabin was easy to spot; the gleaming red Ducati parked under an overhang. Jack knocked on the door, and Daniel opened it with a look of defeat on his face. Gone was the confident, cocky marine, and in his place was a son worried for his mom.

"It's all gone, isn't it?" Daniel asked simply.

"I'm sorry, we couldn't save anything."

Daniel nodded. "At least Mom got out. Was Duncan…is he…?"

"I'm sorry," Jack said gently. He was used to this. It wasn't the first time he'd delivered bad news, and it wouldn't be the last. "Is your mom okay?"

"She's okay. She's lucky that Kieran heard shouting and saw the fire. He went to my mom's cabin—she was awake, and he helped her out." He shook his head. "I was asleep. I should have been more alert—"

"You can't blame yourself. You couldn't have done anything more. I'll take Ianto home if you like, if he wants to go." He might well want to stay with his friend and be a support for him and his mom. Daniel frowned. "Ianto isn't here, Jack."

"He was following me. Right behind me."

"I haven't seen him."

Jack stumbled back a step. Exhaustion gave way to an unsettling wash of icy fear. If Ianto wasn't with Daniel, then where the hell was he? Back at the house? He had to be. Dialling the number as Daniel shouted after him, he half ran to his truck. The call connected and a voice that wasn't Ianto's answered.

"You'd best hurry, big man." Then the phone went dead.


	21. shit got real

Ianto blinked the blood out of his eyes. The worst part of this, with a probably broken arm and definite concussion, was that if he made it out alive, he was due another hospital stay. His head pounded and the blood trailed down to his mouth.

"He'll be here in a minute or so," Neil said. There was no emotion in his voice—no excitement or regret— nor did he appear to want a response.

Ianto had been close behind Jack on his way out the door, but he'd opened it to find Neil, his ex from college.

The one he'd filed a restraining order against. Everything had crystallized the moment the baseball bat connected with his arm as he'd lifted it to protect himself. Ianto's radius bone had broken with a sickening snap. Neil had swung again and cracked him upside the head, stunning him enough to allow Neil to shove him with the bat back into the kitchen. Ianto had crumpled to the floor, curling himself into a ball in a vain attempt to lessen the effect of the blows, every one accompanied by Neil's curses.

Suddenly the blows had stopped, and now there was complete and utter silence.

Sickness rose in Ianto, but he tried to focus. "Why are you here?" he asked through blood and a swollen, split lip.

"You didn't think I'd leave you, did you?" Neil looked puzzled, and Ianto imagined he saw hurt in the other man's expression.

"You were always meant to be mine. You just kinda forgot." The last he added on a laugh dripping with sarcasm.

Ianto resisted answering. The first rule in the Academy—let the bad guy deliver his monolog; it inevitably gives you extra time. Although what he was going to do with the extra time, he didn't know. He couldn't fucking move. One of the blows had opened a gash on his temple, and another had cracked a few ribs.

"I saved up all I could and bought myself a car. Came all the way here, and I see you helping that old guy, and your world is all kind of calm, so I stirred it up a bit. Got your attention. And the consideration of that fire fighter who pulled you out. I was gonna do that, you know. I watched for a while, and I waited, and I was gonna go in and pull you out, then you'd see past what everyone said about me —see the real me."

Ianto watched with growing horror as the man in front of him was lost in this daydream. He moved slightly and waited for Neil to stop him. But Neil didn't show any sign at all of seeing the small shift. His cell was in his jacket, which had fallen to the floor no more than twelve inches away. He chanced another few inches toward the cell, and the feel of the bat connecting with his knee was a pain unlike any he'd felt before.

"Don't you fucking do that," Neil screamed. He leaned over and picked up the jacket before checking in the pocket and pulling out Ianto's cell phone.

Another smack to the head, and Ianto felt his consciousness slip away.

How long he had been unconscious, he didn't know, but Neil pressing down on his arm sent pain screaming through him, and he couldn't fight being awake.

"I only wanted your attention. Was going to save you." He muttered the words, and there was an emptiness to his tone that scared Ianto. Neil was in his own twisted reality.

"You need to stay awake and listen to me. I saw what he did. That man, the big guy. He carried you out, and then I knew he'd won you."

What the hell? Won him? Ianto started as Neil stood. He wasn't sure how many more blows his chest could take.

Neil dropped the baseball bat at his feet, and for a second Ianto stared at the obscenely scarlet blood-tipped end. His blood. The blood he could taste in his mouth, and that was dripping into his eye. Fear of a very different kind knifed through him as Neil pulled out a revolver and methodically checked the safety and the bullets inside.

"I don't like to make too much mess," he said matter-of-factly. "The old man tonight. He wasn't the sort of guy this town needs. Do you agree?"

Ianto wondered if Neil wanted an answer. If, indeed, he wanted anything outside some manic episode of blood-soaked revenge.

"Answer me, Yan, baby," he said. He punctuated the words with a tilt of the gun and clicked the safety off. The noise was harsh in the otherwise quiet room.

"No," Ianto said. That was what he thought Neil needed to hear. _Feed his fantasy enough to stay alive_.

Neil laughed. "You don't believe that. You and your bleeding heart. I bet you think an alcoholic who wastes your time is worth a minute or two. But me…" He stopped and stared into the distance. "I wasn't worth that minute, was I?"

"You hurt me," Ianto snapped. He couldn't help himself. He knew he should stay quiet, but the words dripping from Neil were like acid on the skin. "You scared me."

Neil pointed the gun directly at Ianto, and Ianto closed his eyes. If this was the end, he didn't want his last image to be of a madman. He wanted to remember his mom, his brother, his friends, and Jack.

"That's my boy." Neil chuckled. "There's the fire I liked in you. The one that had you fighting me. You loved it when I hurt you—it turned you on."

"No—"

"Enough. I'm not here to listen to you. I've had everything I can handle tonight." The cell rang in his hand, and he turned it over to check the screen.

"Oh look," he began conversationally. "It's your new lover." He connected the call. "You'd best hurry, big man," he said with a maniacal laugh.

"Don't you fucking hurt him," Ianto rasped. He coughed on a mouthful of blood and tried to push himself to stand.

Neil might as well shoot him, because there was no way Ianto was letting Jack get hurt here.


	22. pain and gain

Ianto managed to stand. He shoved Neil hard against the gas range and gasped as pain ripped through him. He stumbled, clinging to the range but at least managing to stay upright.

"I'm not going to hurt him," Neil defended himself. "I'm going to shoot his face off like I did the old man."

The relief that had washed over Ianto at Neil's initial words died in an instant. He pushed aside the sickening fear that threatened to engulf him and focused on what he could do to get himself out of this.

_Get him talking._

"Why did you cut the brakes?"

"That was perfect, wasn't it? You and that fucking truck. That was what you used to leave me, and that was a perfect means to show you who was in charge."

Ianto coughed and saw blood flecking the cream range. He slid and coughed again as his fingers rested on the gas. Covering the action with a low moan, he turned the knob. He wasn't sure what the hell it would achieve, but it was all he had at his disposal. At least if he was shot now maybe he could take Neil with him? He closed his hand around the handle of a heavy saucepan, but there was no way he could lift it with broken bones.

_Fuck._

"You killed a man and set a fire," Ianto pushed out. "To cover coming for me?"

"It's not been the same with anyone else. No man has been the other side of me like you were. Then you told on me." Neil's voice took on a sing-song tone, and there was madness to it. "And they took me away. Did you know that? They put me in small rooms and told me I didn't understand. But I pretended I did, and I got out of there damn quick. Why did you do that? Tell on me?" Neil took a step toward him and, reaching around Ianto; he chuckled as he turned off the gas and moved the saucepan out of his reach.

"Always the sly one," he said.

"I was nineteen," Ianto said. "I didn't know I was doing anything wrong."

For a second Neil tilted his head and looked thoughtful. Then his lips twisted in a sneer. "You knew. You told them I'd hurt you. But I was making love to you, and I didn't want to share you."

"That wasn't love—"

The sound of a car pulling up outside was enough to stop his speech cold. _Jack?_

"Company." Neil crossed to the window and moved the blind with the snub nose of his weapon.

Ianto knew how dark it would be out there. You couldn't see people until they were in the glow cast by the soft porch lights. Neil slunk back in the shadows and waited. Footsteps sounded on the stairs and the porch; then the door was pushed open. Ianto recognized the figure straight away. _Daniel?_ Daniel stood there with his hands in loose fists at his sides, and Ianto could see a look of pure innocence on his face.

"Okay, Ianto?" he asked firmly.

"Daniel—"

"Where's the fire-fighter?" Neil's voice was strong from the shadows. Then just as suddenly an uncertain tone as he whined, "I wanted to kill the fire-fighter."

Daniel turned to face the assailant in the corner, and Neil stepped into the halo cast by a small lamp. The gun was up, and Neil's eyes were wide.

"Tell him to go, Ianto," Neil said. "Tell him to get the fire-fighter for me. You're no good. My Ianto loved you, he told me he wanted you, but he won't touch you now. He's with his fire fighter. No, he's with me…" Neil shook his head.

Ianto saw Daniel's hand clench into a fist, relax, then indicate two fingers. Was there someone out there? Was it Jack?

"No," Ianto managed to force out. He didn't want anyone hurt. "Please go, Daniel. I don't need you here; I'm going with Neil. Then Neil won't need to hurt anyone."

"He already has hurt someone, Ianto. Already killed a man tonight. Not with his hands, though—with a gun." Daniel snorted his contempt.

The gun pointing at Daniel's chest wavered a little. "I could have killed him with my own hands," Neil said with a frown. "A few more chances, and I could have been a Marine just like you."

"You think you could? You don't look the type. Too skinny and weedy," Daniel goaded him.

Ianto groaned. Why was his friend poking the hornets' nest? Why not leave well enough alone?

 _Don't rile him up_.

"I know it." Neil lowered the gun, pointing it at the floor…and all hell broke loose. Everything was a blur.

Daniel diving for Neil's gun, Jack coming up behind Neil. Neil in the middle with his finger still on the trigger.

"The gun!" Ianto shouted over the noise, but no one responded.

The discharge of the weapon and the smell of cordite was enough to force Ianto to his knees. Who had been shot? Why was there blood on the wall in the spread of light from the lamp?

"Call nine-one-one." Jack's voice. Jack's hands on him, holding him, supporting him, and then Daniel there.

"Done," Daniel snapped. "How's Ianto?"

"Is—is— Neil, is he dead?" Ianto stuttered, and coughed.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to kill him," Jack said softly. Ianto grasped at his lover's shirt and pulled him closer. What did Jack think he wanted? To talk to the man who'd murdered and destroyed? For Ianto? To get closure? Ianto wanted none of that.

"Don't ever be sorry," he said fiercely. "Not for anything."

"Paramedics will be here in ten," Daniel announced.

Jack gently laid Ianto flat on the floor and cradled his head in his hands. "Hear that, Ianto? Ten, that's all."

Ianto let every muscle he had control over relax until all he had to focus on was Daniel and Jack talking above him and his breathing. He turned his head, and his gaze rested on Neil lying crumpled, one eye wide and staring, the other side of his face gone.

He finally felt warm again.


	23. aftermath of ashes

"I didn't know he'd been in a psychiatric hospital," Ianto said.

His parents and Sean stood by his bed, and all wore expressions of worry.

"Why didn't you tell us, though? That he was hitting you back in college. I thought he was just stalking you and that you'd dealt with it," Sean said.

Ianto sighed inwardly. His brother was assuming that the physical trauma was more dangerous. Psychological trauma was just as hard to cope with, but he hadn't wanted to lay it on his family—hell, it had been six years ago, and Sean had only been fifteen.

"I was a kid," Ianto tried to explain although talking hurt. "I didn't know any better. He was two years older than me and more experienced. I dealt with it. I left him. He moved away. It was over."

"You need to get some sleep," his mom said.

The nurses had been in, prodded him, poked him; doctors had pronounced that he'd live and could he try to leave it a few weeks before coming back in? Gallows humour at its best. Two cracked ribs, one concussion under observation, one fractured arm, and a dislocated shoulder, added to the injured knees, bruises on top of bruises, and Ianto was in a world of feeling sorry for himself.

The room was quiet after they'd gone. He hadn't seen Daniel and Jack since last night, but Kieran had spent time with him explaining that both men were dealing with the fallout. Neil was dead—a single bullet through his left eye, from his own gun. He'd been shot in self-defence; it was obvious from the evidence and the statements.

That strange faux darkness that indicated night time fell over the hospital, and yet again Ianto measured time by meds and nurse visits.

Finally, when he woke from one of many naps, the person he most wanted to see was in his room, at his bedside, sleeping in a chair with his arms crossed over his chest. Hospital chairs were too small for a man as big as Jack.

"Jack?" Ianto coughed.

Jack was there with water, but Ianto felt like someone had steamrollered him. He was exhausted and hurt from head to toe.

"Shhh," Jack whispered over and over to comfort him.

"This is getting old," Ianto sighed. "Me in the hospital and you coming in with grapes."

"I didn't bring any grapes."

Sleep washed over Ianto, and he yawned. "Go home," he said. "Come back tomorrow, though? With grapes."

Jack settled back in the chair. "I'll wait until you fall asleep, Ianto Jones."

"Don't have to," Ianto murmured.

"Yeah," Jack replied softly. "Yeah, I do."

.

.

.

Jack parked the new truck outside the mayor's office.

He'd gone with Daniel and Kieran to find a truck for Ianto to replace the one that had passed on to Old Truck Heaven in the river. He was nervous about today, and he wasn't entirely sure why. Ianto had been out of the hospital a week and was back on light duties, which played havoc with the amount of time they truly spent together. It had been a month now since the night of the murders, and Holywell was still in shock.

Duncan Gerald was mourned briefly as a fixture in the town, but he wouldn't be missed by many. Hell, Duncan's son Luke hadn't bothered to attend the funeral. The manner in which Neil had died had cast another shadow over Holywell. Everyone in the town knew everything, and Jack wondered if he would ever get used to it.

"Hey, Jack," Daniel called from the diner across the street. "Good luck."

He'd need it. Ianto was on edge and antsy. He'd given evidence, spent days in the hospital, and refused point-blank to let Jack look after him. The first night Jack had driven him home, Ianto had damn near shut the door in his face with the excuse of being tired. Since then, six days of meetings and silence and just plain stubbornness on Ianto's part and Jack was ready to pull him out of the house by force. They'd seen each other more when Ianto had been in the hospital. The truck was his last chance to get inside Ianto's head and make him see what Jack wanted for the two of them.

"Thanks," he called back. Squaring his shoulders, he entered the code to let himself into his workplace and Ianto's. Working alongside each other but in different rooms made for a very odd relationship.

"He's in with the coffee machine," Drew said as soon as he saw Jack.

That was good; they would at least have some privacy.

Jack stalked into the small anteroom and pulled the door shut with a resounding slam, causing Ianto to whirl around suddenly.

"Jack—" he began.

"No. No talking. Just listen." Jack had had enough of listening to reasons why Ianto didn't want to take what they potentially had any further. They were first responders; they had a responsibility to stay clear-headed, and who the hell had relationships that lasted anyway?

"Jack—"

"I'm sorry, okay," Jack blurted.

Their last meeting had been Jack trying to push for a reaction by pinning Ianto to this very coffee machine. Of course, he released him as soon as he saw how panicked Ianto was. But it was too late and had ended way past badly and on to horrific. Ianto had fought him, and not in the sexy, squirming, not-really-trying-to-escape way, but in a very freaked-out way.

Eyes wide, Ianto had told Jack to fuck off.

"I didn't mean to scare you."

"I'm not a girl, Jack."

"I know that."

"You didn't scare me. I panicked. Look." Carefully, he placed his mug down on the counter and crossed his arms over his chest.

Jack recognized the defensive posture for what it was.

He mimicked the stance and leaned back against the door in case someone wanted to come in that way.

Ianto continued, "I'm seeing the doctor at the hospital over all this flashback shit. Can't that be enough for a while? If I get through to the other side with my job intact, then we could be friends."

"Friends with benefits, huh?" Jack knew he was goading Ianto. Could see the sudden flash of pain in the other man's eyes.

"I guess so," Ianto answered. Doubt coloured his words, despite the semi-confident delivery.

"I could maybe date Daniel?"

Hurt flashed in Ianto's eyes. "If you wanted to."

"You'd be okay with that?" Jack pushed, finally seeing something happening as Ianto focused.

Come on.

Fight.


	24. loving words quench and flame

Ianto looked right at him, and then shook his head.

"I'm nearly there," he explained. "At least I'm not jumping all the time now. Maybe in a while, I'll want more. I don't know. Fuck, Jack, we weren't any more than casual lovers —we don't have to build it up to be any more than it is."

"That's bullshit. Why won't you let me help?"

"I don't need help."

"You push Daniel and Kieran away… even Sean texted me to ask if you'd lost your phone."

There was a pause—a silence so complete Jack could hear the sound of his heart thumping in his chest. Ianto turned his back on Jack and rested his palms on the counter. He leaned over and bowed his head.

"I'm a grown man—"

"Not this again."

"Yes, this again. I'm a grown man who can handle his own problems. I nearly got Daniel killed. I nearly got you killed. God knows where he would have stopped…my mom? Sean? Don't you get it? Neil was my fault. I should have followed up on him—hell, just checked on the police database for what he was doing. I knew there was something about him that wasn't right."

"Okay," Jack said suddenly. Ianto tensed, and Jack carried on. He placed the keys to the truck on his end of the counter. "Your new truck is out front. Daniel, Kieran and I managed to get enough money together, so you have a pretty good replacement."

Ianto shot a surprised glance at Jack.

"I'm home the rest of today. If you can get your head out of your arse long enough to see that I don't want you so I can look after you, but that maybe I need you to look after me. After all, the man I love was nearly beaten to death." He left before Ianto could say anything. He wasn't sure if he'd played the right cards. Doc had told him he should try to make Ianto see that what had happened hadn't been all his fault. The only way he could do that was to show Ianto that he'd been scared too, maybe force Ianto's protective side to push past his fears.

He walked home, past the Chinese restaurant, past the school, until finally, he was in his small front yard. The sound of a truck drawing up next to him was a welcome relief. Now he had to see if Ianto was in a fighting mood or whether he was still in self-isolation mode.

"What did you say back there?" Ianto said as he climbed out of his truck.

"What part, exactly?" Jack could play this game all day if it meant getting Ianto back in his life.

"The man you love." Ianto gestured at Jack.

"Oh, that."

"How can you respect me, let alone love me, when you had to pull me out of chaos three times like some idiot?" Ianto snapped. Then he seemed to realize what he'd said, and he stopped talking and paled. Jack stumbled back a step. Finally, it all made sense. This wasn't Ianto in fear for Jack's life, or Daniel's, or feeling that it was his fault Neil had made his way to Holywell. This was Ianto thinking that Jack didn't respect him.

Jack opened his front door and stood to one side. "We need to talk," he said firmly.

Ianto was staring at him wild-eyed, and for a second Jack imagined Ianto was going to get into his truck and leave.

Finally, Ianto came to a silent conclusion and walked past Jack into the house, taking obvious care not to brush against him.

Jack's heart twisted. What the hell did he say now? What did he do? Ianto was his, and Jack was lost without him. He was in love, something he had never imagined happening, and he wanted a hell of a lot more than a couple of hot memories and a month of hospital visits and drama. He wanted years more together.

Ianto rounded on him as soon as he stepped inside. He looked angry. "Do you see now?" he demanded. "Did I not make it clear to you?"

"You just did. But I don't get it. Do you think you're less of a man in my eyes because I helped you out of a truck, or wrestled a madman to the ground? What about Duncan? What about me dragging your arse out of the fire? You forgot that one."

"All of it."

"You stubborn fucker," Jack snapped.

"And that's gonna win me over?" Ianto snapped back.

They stood there in a furious face-off until suddenly Jack knew exactly what to say.

"When I was a probie…God, I was, like, twenty-three, green as hell. We had this fire. An office had gone up in flames, one of those old buildings over four floors. A guy was trapped up on the third floor, and before we got there, one of his colleagues went back into the building to drag him out. Something inside that man—courage, duty, friendship, I don't know what—made him go into a building with a raging fire. Neither man made it out. That man running into a fire was possibly the bravest thing I had ever seen, and it stayed with me. Then you…" Jack stopped talking for a moment. He wasn't entirely sure he was making the right point. "You went in to get Duncan out. You didn't have to, but you did."

"I'm a trained—" Ianto started.

"First responder. It's what we do," Jack finished.

"Jack—"

"Ianto, stop, okay? Listen to what I said. I would have done the same for Daniel or Kieran—does that mean they're lesser men?"

"No, but—"

"Trust me when I tell you this. When you opened your eyes in the ambulance and looked up at me, I fell right damn-slap into lust with you, and when I got to know you, I fell in love."

"Because you feel responsible for—"

"Damn you, Ianto Jones," Jack said. In a second he had Ianto pressed to the wall, and this time Ianto didn't resist but melted back against its support. Roughly, Jack pushed up Ianto's dark blue shirt and loosened his belt. The noise of it falling to the floor was loud in the quiet room. "I love you."

Ianto didn't immediately respond, and Jack took the silence as an opportunity to kiss him. He pushed and pushed until they were both hard and ready.

Ianto shoved him, and at first, Jack didn't let him stop the kiss for fear that he was making a decision Jack wasn't sure he could live with. Then his jostling was too much, and Jack put some distance between them to allow Ianto to talk.

"I love you too," Ianto said simply. He was breathing heavily, but there was a new peace in his expression.

"You do?" Jack hated to hear the doubt in his voice.

Ianto smiled.

 _The bastard_.

"I love that you didn't give up on me."

So much emotion filled the words.

"I love your stubbornness," Jack said firmly.

"I love _your_ stubbornness," Ianto repeated.

Jack stepped back into Ianto's space and pulled him close before kissing him hard.

"I love your body. I love that you're my man."

Ianto simply pulled back a little and stared straight into Jack's eyes. He reached down and ran a hand over Jack's achingly hard dick. He smirked.

"I love your hose."

**THE END**


End file.
